Carousel] Roman found a flyer this morning, a flyer that pulled on a thread of memory sunk into his flesh. Come one, it said, come all. Come to the unfair.
The address was not Chicago, this time. It was not Evanston or Gary, or anywhere close to the city he now calls home. Frasher's Bottom, Illinois! and two nights only. Still, there was something about it that struck him as - compelling, insistent, important.
The flyer was folded in two, stuck underneath the tire of a big red Ford double-parked in front of a long-abandoned construction site. The truck pulled away leaving the impression of tire tracks on the white paper, the pebbles in the matrix of the asphalt, and he would not have noticed it, except that he was watching the truck pull away when the wind blew by and blew the flyer open, and he remembered that, the promise of it.
All the fun of the unfair.
[Carousel] Roman found a flyer this morning, a flyer that pulled on a thread of memory sunk into his flesh. Come one, it said, come all. Come to the unfair.
The address was not Chicago, this time. It was not Evanston or Gary, or anywhere close to the city he now calls home. Frasher's Bottom, Illinois! and two nights only. Still, there was something about it that struck him as - compelling, insistent, important.
The flyer was folded in two, stuck underneath the tire of a big red Ford double-parked in front of a long-abandoned construction site. The truck pulled away leaving the impression of tire tracks on the white paper, the pebbles in the matrix of the asphalt, and he would not have noticed it, except that he was watching the truck pull away when the wind blew by and blew the flyer open, and he remembered that, the promise of it.
All the fun of the unfair.
[Fate] He'd gone and picked up that flyer and as soon as he read it, a chill raced up his spine. It was back to the Church he'd gone with it because well, he would leave word before he took off with Sparrow's car. After all, Sparrow seldom drove the darned Honda and he did have a legal driver's license, for Kansas.
[Bone Writer] The Car wheeled and dealed it's way through the streets with Roman at the wheel. He couldn't help but think that the 16 year old didn't drive very often. Maybe it was this or simply a vague sense of nervousness that had Linus gripping the dashboard or the seat or the headrest in frantic urgency as the Saturday evening Traffic leapt out infront of Roman on any number of occasions. Honking and hooting pedestrians flared to life and Linus did no few times, shout out a heated
"Outta the way you Lush! Major lane! MAJOR LANE!"
Now the question obviously came to what Linus was doing in the car. To which the answer had been-
"...Kor 'n Trent are spending quality time. Have no idea where Sparrow is so it's just you 'n me tonight bud. Need to paint the town red or take in some sights-...'scuse me a sec...Hey Sweetheart! Love the Drive by View! Spectacular! Yeah? Call Me?! We Can Do Lunch! Woo! See that? Weekends, man. All the pretty comes out in spades with high calves and as little as the weather'll let 'em get away with. Gaia bless these Indian summers, I tell yo- CAT!"
Frantic pointing and clinging were the norm, no matter the safety concerns of the young Ragabash.
[Carousel] Frasher's Bottom, Illinois is a small farm town outside the ring of Chicago development, south, bisected by old US Route 75, a near straight-shot to Springfield. The town proper is dead or dying, one square mile of clapboard houses, straight, plainly made churches - Catholic and Baptist predominate - and old brick storefronts. Once upon a time, Main Street was full on a Saturday night. A double feature at the small theater, maybe, followed by a treat at the creamery. There was a haberdasher and a cobbler and a pair of competing dress shops, three or four farm supply companies, the offices of the local co-op, the regional grain elevator that stood just on the other side of the railroad tracks.
Now most of those buildings are empty, and Saturday nights are ghostlike. Folks have to drive thirty-miles to Wal-Mart for their groceries, no matter that they are surrounded on all sides by corn fields.
There are a pair of recent additions, though. South of town, a Tractor Supply Company has been built, the big box store is carved out of some farmer's land, with a huge asphalt parking lot and everything the gentleman farmer could need, from overalls to seed, from pesticides to fungicides to huge tractors that guzzle diesel and insulate the farmer from the land.
North of town, the regional high school sprawls over a ten acre campus nestled in a lazy oxbow bend of a tributary of the Illinois that is charitably called a River by the locals. Outsiders might consider it a creek. The school itself is a squat brick building constructed in the 1990s, expanded once since then, with a big parking lot, and a well-constructed football stadium behind, closer to the river. On all sides, practice fields flanked by a windbreak of fast-growing evergreens are flanked by more farmer's fields.
[Carousel] Gwen was sent on a long, pointless errand for a particular gasket that another dealership in Springfield, Illinois had in stock today. There's construction on the interstate, though, the promise of a massive back up outside Chicago. Her GPS plotted a more direct is perhaps less speedy route through farm country - acre after acre, mile after mile - of flat land, the last crop of hay ripe in the fields, the odd pumpkin patch, the occasional promise of a CORN MAZE or HAUNTED FIELD or HAY RIDES - but mostly mile after mile of desiccated corn stalks waiting to be plowed under.
There's something mesmerizing about two-lane roads, though. This rhythm-of-place as mile after mile disappears beneath your wheels. Close to dusk, the lights of a town glowing in the distance against the horizon - Gwen realizes that she is almost out of gas.
The turn by turn doesn't work properly anymore. If she has an iPhone, its promises are dead now. Point it in any direction, and all it sees are shadows against the dust-dry fields. There's such sameness around her that it is difficult to pinpoint where she might be along that long, straight shot up the map even if she conjures it up in her mind.
She tries all the tricks, squeezes the last few drops out of the nearly empty tank, hoping that those lights in the dark horizon mean a town and a town means a gas station, cursing herself for not filling up before leaving Springfield. Then, lucky girl, an old fashioned-red TEXACO sign appears on the horizon and she coasts into the station on fumes, sheer fumes.
Finds the place locked up tight, with a sign that says, "DINNER. BACK IN TWO HOURS." hand written beside a clock posted in the window.
Beside the sign, there's a flyer.
Two nights only. Come to the unfair.
[Fate] He was trying to figure Linus out while trying not to run over someone or get hit himself.
"Sparrow is gonna kill me if I bang up her car again."
He swerved and blew the horn. Once they got outside town it wouldn't be so bad. Once they got outside Chicago he would see the fields again, breathe in the autumn air and his grip on the steering wheel would become relaxed as would his entire body. And a wave of homesickness would wash out of him that would work it's way all the way back through the Pack Bond.
"Anyway, we went to see the freak show. Lukas was there and Simon and a couple of Kin. And everything was really a trap. Seems what they were looking for was to catch themselves a Garou. They wanted a girl, but weren't no girls with us that night. There in one of the exhibits was this vampire boy, it was a real freak show. And in a big ole kettle was this thing what looked like a pink Jaba the Hutt. Only his name was Franklin. And we had us a big ole fight with that pink Franklin and his brother the Barker."
"Anyway as I was saying. Back in spring there was this here carnival that blew in to town for one night? Weird carnival as far as carnivals go. This one was not your regular freak show.
[Fate] He shook the flyer at Linus.
"Here read this. This is where we are going tonight, cause I know as sure as I was born, this is the same bunch. We gotta be careful we don't get trapped in there before it blows out of town again. And ya gotta watch out for acid, cause we all done got burned."
He was rattling on.
"I probably should of told Miss Kora, she's gonna be right pissed I done picked up her little brother and took him out of town like this. Though tell ya what, we'll get her some pink cotton candy to make up for it."
[Bone Writer] Roman's entire spiel is done with the young lad's eyes out the windshield keeping an eye on things as the City is left behind for straight, smooth highway. Nothing terribly unpleasant or disastrous available on such a smooth straight course, but he seems distracted by past memories. Distant echoes of a long lost concern.
Probably the reason he doesn't catch the full on 'WTF' face Linus has at the recounting of the place they are currently going to (re)investigate. Slack jawed, brow perked, eyes a little paranoid-wild and a
"You're kidding...right?"
To top it all off.
"We talkin' like fish boys and bubble girls and horse eating Leprechaun type freak show then? 'Cause I tell you, if there's a bearded lady I'm gettin' her autograph before we have to kak her." One arm dangles out the open passenger window, body slouched in the shotgun seat so his knees rest on the dashboard. A knapsack is tucked in the backseat, lumpy and fullsome. Everything the Godi apparently needed.
"Don't worry about Kora or me. I'll tell her I forced you, all Fenrir eager to get me some kills or some stupidity." He plucks the flyer up, perusing the details and specifics as they continue the drive out into the small Town, overhead lights growing fewer and farther between as the various manufacturing businesses leap up on the left and right hand side. Steadily, surely, the Town of Frasher's Bottom creeps into the windshield horizon.
"'sides, Kora wants me to do some run around with you guys to get your side of things and show you I'm good by my own word as much as hers. Can't really join a pack without some sense of comfort between folks afterall...Watch the turn off-" He points down a sign off the freeway leading into Frasher's Bottom.
"Acid. Freaks. Trapped...? What do you mean? Like, pit falls and snares and shit? Or we talking more voodoo level?"
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwendolyn, baby, wanna do your grand ole' dad a favor?
What do you need?
Well, there's a part that came in in Springfield that a customer ordered, you wanna go pick that up for me?
Why can't you?
It's date night! I'm gonna get--
Okay! Okay, I'm going.
So Gwen had taken her mother's car, a Honda CR-V with a GPS mounted above the center console. She'd been instructed to take the scenic route to avoid construction, and while it wasn't exactly a school night and she didn't really have a curfew, she was supposed to be meeting Vince at a house party around eleven o' clock or so, so she wanted to make this trip quick and painless and make it to her 'prior engagement' before Vince Odewall, got bored and wandered off, as he was apt to do.
Out here, though, she was more focused on watching the sides of the road for deer than she was on watching the gas gauge, and before long she found the car would struggle to get up hills, realized too late that the gas light had been on for a while. The town glowed dimly up ahead, and she thought it was a miracle of luck and mercy that the vehicle made it into the gas station, barely managing the slope into the parking lot. She rolled to a stop at a pump to find that it was pre-pay only, and that the station was completely locked down and blacked out.
BACK IN TWO HOURS, it promised, and she scoffed and scowled and dug into her pocket for a simple flip phone (she didn't waste money on the iPhone, finding it pretentious and overpriced) and dialed a number from memory (because some people still did that). As she spoke into the phone, she stared at the flyer.
"Vince, I'll have to grab you another day. I'm stuck out in the podunk middle of nowhere, out of gas, and have to wait for a couple hours. Just... hang onto it, alright? I'll see you tomorrow night, and if not then at school. Uh huh. Yeah. Peace, pal."
The flyer was examined for a few more seconds before she peeled it from the window, glanced up the street, then started marching up the street toward the sounds of loud, obnoxious noise and the sight of bright lights swishing back and forth over the clouds in the sky, demanding attention and luring in idle bodies.
[Fate] "It's all true, tell him Simon."
He spoke over his shoulder to the big ole muscled guy in the back.
"Tell him about the carnival and all the stuffed animals ya won. Tell him about the freak show and Jaba's pink brother."
He looked over his shoulder a second causing the car to weave back and forth.
[Bone-Grinder] He smiles."I love those fuckin' stuffed animals... Earned each and every one and I woulda gotten laid had it not been for you fuckups distracting me and making me feel bad for you."He says this with a little laugh."Hey didn't you like jump into the boiling pot of slimy goo man or something? Or was that someone else?"
"I really didn't care too much about the Carnival one way or another. But I really fucking hated that MC. He kept looking at me and talking in that creepy obnoxious fucking voice. I really could care less if he's good or evil... I'm gonna fuckin' kill that dude!"
[Bone Writer] "LamppostlamppostLampPostLAMPPOST!"
[Carousel] Way out here you can see the stars. They shine with a particular, luminous sort of grace. The floodlights, the security lights that mark each inhabited outpost, each still-cared for farmstead out at night seem to recede in the darkness, and the concentrated lights of the towns shines against the horizon, which seems - on those long, lonely two-lane roads that bisect rural Illinois -
The town is nearly deserted. There's a big, handmade banner across Main Street that announces that it is Tucker County Consolidated Homecoming tonight, and a handful of homemade signs - painted plywood - cheer on the Bears. Dusk falls across the sky, a wound in the west, shadows in the east, threads of smoke curling like some half-forgotten memory. As the sun sets, though - colorful spread out over the high school parking lot, the practice fields. The delicate joints of the Spider and the metal curve of the Ferris wheel stand out against the sky.
Light and noise - the wheezy organ music of an antique carousel, the staccato calls of barkers and carnis hawking their games, promising riches - or at least giant stuffed animals - to whoever is manly enough to make three baskets in a row, or knock down a pyramid of milk jugs with a softball, or swing a sledge hammer. The scent of funnel cakes, deep fried, and the sweet nothingness of cotton candy - molten sugar - waft through the air. The carnival covers most of the parking lot and the nearby practice fields, so locals have parked their pickups haphazardly up and down the road, turned off on the shoulder, in the ditches.
--
Gwen's Texaco is the sort of place with two gas pumps that have to be reset manually from the interior of the locked storefront. There's no credit card slots, and the oily interior smells of rubber tires and smoked oil. A wheezing cooler glows blue-red, the Pepsi sign over it illuminated in the dark. Two hours.
Long time to wait.
She can see the lights, though, of the fair up the road. She can hear the music, smell the ribs, see the Ferris wheel now, against the sky. It's half a mile to the high school, maybe less. Distance means different things out here. It's close, though.
[Fate] He swerved, jerking the car at the last moment.
"No I didn't climb in the pot, I pushed the danged thing over!"
He never cursed, the worse he got was Danged.
"Besides, ya don't want to sleep with nothing at a Carnie, ain't no one ever told ya that?"
[Bone Writer] The Car leaps into an available spot, that consists of little more than the bragging room between two muscle trucks, giving each other a comfortable amount of ego buffer. Sparrow's dinky honda tucks in neatly, slightly off centre as to give each of the Boys a chance to squeeze their way out. Linus reaches in back to pluck up his knap sack and goes climbing out the window, onto the hood of the Large suspension-thick El Camino parked on the passenger side.
Then slides down with quasi-grace, to land infront of the behemoth, looking back to watch the others.
"So this Carnival. You guys inspect the other side at all while you were here? Maybe find some feedback spots or seeds?"
[Gwen Sullivan] The walk wasn't too bad, Gwen had been on the track team a few times before (but didn't try out this year, what with her new extracurricular being fighting an underground war against monsters and creatures too nightmarish for people to even imagine) and was a fine distance runner, but there was no need to run right now. So she strolled instead, taking her leisurely time to get up the road, sticking to the sidewalk just in case a car drove by, though she hadn't seen much traffic since she made it into the town limits.
Some handful of minutes later, she was stepping up over a curb and standing before the carnival. She looked at the rides, at all the booths, skimming her gaze across the entire display before she bothered hunting for a ticket booth. No sense in spending her money if it was all going to suck.
She didn't look the small town sort, sticking out like a bit of a sore thumb amongst locals but blending in fine with the kind of people you'd expect to be attracted to a carnival like this. Her hair was dyed a brilliant red with streaks of bumblebee yellow cutting through the underside, visible more predominantly by the fact that she had it pulled back into a ponytail. This revealed the gauges in her ears and the heavy spirals that she looped through them. Her lower lip was pierced along with a medusa piercing in her upper lip, one right on top of the other. Her jeans were typically, as were her sneakers, and her hoodie was snug-fitting and zipped up, with an advertisement for some largely unheard of band on the back.
"Huh," she says finally, and walks in deeper.
[Bone-Grinder] He laughs softly and shrugs a little"Strange I haven't bumped into that Iona chick since... Oh well not like it's a big deal. I think it's against the rules anyway or some such shit."He adds with another little laugh. Simon does swear, like a "motherfuckin' sailor" it's all part of his charm. He was young, crude and did not so much as hide the fact that he pretty much only thought about two things.
"Do I look like a fuckin' theurge to you?"He asks Bone Writer with a curious tone."Not my job and sure as fuck not my place to go prancing around askin a swarm of banes questions. I prefer not to jump into the umbra when I know I'm in a Wyrm den thingy on account of the millions of banes on the other side just achin' to grab my corpse and rape and shit on it. Not really my thing ya know?"He asks with a little laugh as he settles back.
"I'm an Ahroun I make things that are alive not alive... Or in the case of things that are not alive but still walking I make them not walk. It's a simple existence and I have grown rather fond of it. The good life I like to call it... A full moon's live is very black and white in some respects. You're either fuckin' something or you're killin' it and everything else is for others to sort out."
[Fate] "Huh? What?"
He was surprised with Linus' question, then he added when Simon chimed in.
"Yeah what he said. We were a bit busy and then it was gone. Course it weren't never really fully here. Ain't everyone that finds it near as I can figure."
"Speak of the devil, this here looks like the same Carnival alright. Name matches, it's good as the same to me."
He waited till everyone was out, made sure the windows were closed and locked the car up tight as a button. It was night, he wore his evening Stetson, making sure it was tipped just right on his brow. He hitched his breeches up and started looking for a way in other than the main entrance.
"This is it fella's, let's go make a ruckus."
[Bone Writer] The Godi turns to regard The Ahroun Shadowlord with a bland, even deadpan stare.
"Your threats need improvement. Remind me to do the trash talking if we run into a spiral or something. Wouldn't want you pointing out how Dead it's going to be when you Make it that way." He clucks his tongue and turns to regard the flare of carnival life that makes up the horizon over the various cars parked with such sporadic chaos. He makes forward a bit, weaving through the lanes and spaces created by the labyrinth of automobiles, eyes delving and scanning their surroundings with something akin to discomfort.
"I hate clowns. Creepy fuckers better keep to themselves." He steps into place alongside Roman, gaze remaining actively searching. The Godi's senses were more primed for telltale signs of disturbance and heightened clarity; the connection between the physical and the spiritual that makes some moments in the Material World they found themselves in, surreal and strangely out of place (A Gangbanger standing over a fresh corpse, still pumping rounds into the body. A child staring quietly at fresh colours in the sky that aren't really there).
"Just remember the cotton candy for Kor."
[Fate] "Ya know, last time we were here I had cotton candy. It weren't so good and I guess I'm lucky I didn't end up with worms. Ever had worms? Ain't such a pleasant thing."
They probably made an odd looking bunch but one thing was for certain. Out here he didn't stand out so much with his Wranglers, boots and Stetson.
[Carousel] There is a loose sort of fence around the place. The carnis pulled up their trucks and their trailers the way settlers might have on the prairie, with their wagons, headed west - a loose sort of fort. Those were conestogas, though, and these are airstreams, gleaming chrome, sleakly bullet shaped. Around the perimeter, the music of the carousel - in that breathy three-quarter time that makes one want to waltz - in drowned by the constant drone of generators. Kerosene tanks orange extensions cords cut through the muddy maze. Where the trailers have not been pulled up, the carnis have erected crowd-control fences, flimsy metal things set and filled with water or sand.
Admission is free tonight. Locals walk easily in and out of the clown's mouth near the front gate, carrying cones of roasted candied almonds or paper trays of nachos. Roman and Simon remember that structure well - the way the lights behind the structure seem to illuminate the translucent eyes, the way you walk through the clown's mouth, underneath a sextet of grotesquely pointed teeth, uncaring. The thing seems to leer, its molded face all lines framing the fanged mouth through which one walks.
--
Gwen walks through, feels this faint sort of - pop in her ears, the kind of adjustment one's body makes to changing elevation, though the land is as flat inside as it is outside. The midway teams with people, country folk in boots and hats, high school kids, the football players - or their girlfriends - wearing jerseys on homecoming night. The air is crisp, apple weather. And there are apples for say - candied apples from one booth, caramel from another, all the usual fair favorites. Up and down the aisles she goes, checking out the rides - from the mundane Ferris wheel and Spider, from the Whip to the bumper cars, to that wheezy carousel it seems as if she might have heard for miles.
There are games, too. The duck pond. Test your strength. There are milk jugs one knocks over, and others one throws quarters into. There are basketball hoops and sharpshooter contests.
- Step up! Step up! - is the near constant refrain.
The place feels larger inside that it did from without. More expansive. There's even - now she sees it, though she hadn't before - a wooden rollercoaster outlined against the dusk sky. It seems - far away, a rickety thing, almost skeletal, defined against the shadows.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders and simply grins at Bone Writer."Ain't gonna be no dancers here. Not likely at all... Maybe some fomori and banes but I doubt we'll see too many dancers. I wouldn't advise too much shit talking in a fight asshat... That kinda shit gets people killed. Do your shit talkin' after shits dead and you're pissing on its corpse."He says with a little grin before popping the door open and sliding out of the Car.
"Yep this looks like the place... I can't wait to see the look on that clowns fat fucking face when he sees us."He says this with a brilliant little glimmer in his eye."Whatever the case lets not go in using a token or anything... Lets just find who we needs to find and go in the back door to do it."He says with a nod of his head."I don't wanna get trapped in one of those rooms where the walls slowly close in on ya or something."
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness: Detail-Oriented Spec.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Carousel] There is a girl half-hidden behind the skeeball tent watching Gwen. She's - a teenager, not tall, a big chubby, with ratty brown hair, dressed in army green cargo pants and a black t-shirt. There's something in her hands, but a sort of animal sharpness to the way she watches Gwen.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] "I don't want to end up in the stew pot or being Franklin's new best buddy. Infact, I hope Franklin is so dead and gone that they had to find a new pot to start over with."
He held in a shudder with the thought of how Franklin might be back in that pot just a bubbling away. And he was looking for a way in other than through the Clown mouth.
"I don't like going through that mouth y'all, it's like being swallowed only asking for it."
[Bone Writer] "...You two have some major issues to look into at...some...point..."
He stares at the Clown's mouth as they approach, mouth going slightly slack while staring up at it alongside Simon and Roman.
"Who the Fuck Designs these things anyway?! Stephen King?! Fuck off!"
[Fate] "Oh that done scared him, Linus. Tell him again, I think I saw the big clown face shiver."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen had two hours to kill, and with an unexpected carnival to burn time away in just cropping up out in the middle of nowhere she put herself in a mood to be amused. So she'd have a funnel cake, try and win a goldfish and test what Alethea had mentioned to her about animals acting weird around her now, maybe ride the Gravitron if they had one on the premise, even if it would probably get her sick.
Upon walking through the front gate, she paused and pulled out her phone, leaning back enough to take a picture, grinning with utter bemusement shining on her pierced face. She paused to send it as a picture message to Vince, he'd get a kick out of showing it to some kid tripping balls on the latest hallucinogen and listening to them squeal to take it away. Her teeth clicked idly on the metal protruding from her lower lip, her phone was tucked away into her pants pocket, and she continued forward.
Her ears popped as though she just drove down a steep hill, and she lifted a hand to rub her ear with her palm, and continued forward, not paying much mind to the sensation at all. She noted the skeleton of a roller coaster in the background, spotted a 'Test Your Strength' game, grinned to herself, and started walking forward only to pause again.
Fine hairs prickled at the back of her neck, and incredibly keen (though plainly colored) eyes went slightly out of focus, studying the shape that appeared out the corner of them in the shadows. She knew looking directly into the dark, for some reason, blurred the dark into nothingness, but indirect vision brought details to the surface.
Someone holding something, average looking, chubby, a teenager. She could easily be a student here at the high school. The only problem with that, though, was the fact that her eyes felt more like those of one of the lions in Ghost in the Darkness than those of a half-stoned teenager hanging out behind the scenes at a carnival.
So Gwen straightened up some, took a breath, and turned to idle a few feet away from a booth. Here she pretended to watch a couple give too much money to the vendor while the young man in the lettermen jacket tried to win an oversized stuffed seal for his girlfriend/date/lay-for-the-night. In truth, though, she was paying keen mind to the suspicious gal that seemed to be just as keenly interested in her.
[Fate] per
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Bone Writer] "...And I'm right sure that Podunk Cowboy get-up you got goin' is makin' him wet a big one, Eastwood."
He sniffs, a hand rising to wipe under his nose before spitting off to one side.
"Shit here is thin." His voice loses some of the mirthful jest the three seem comfortable sharing, jaw skewing off to one side as his gaze travels the length of the Mouth for a moment. "Two sides of the mirror, this and the other, are a lot closer here. Feels like..." His gaze narrows, turning to look back the way they had come. A semblance of darkness, closed out, boundary shadowing the 'parking lot' and the cars. The brilliance of the light making them non-descript and inconspicuous.
"...Feels almost like we're at a bawn but..." He turns back to the Clown's mouth "-It ain't a Caern. Ain't a Hive. Something's off."
He blinks a moment then scowls.
"I fucking hate clowns."
[Fate] alert
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] The three musketeers are outside, staring at the clown's mouth. Both Roman and Simon walked through it once before, paid their way. Now Roman studies the narrow metal barriers surrounding the perimeter, the closely parked airstreams, the fifth wheel trailers pulled tight to keep straingers out.
Inside, among the booths, Gwen sees not just the booths, but strange, old fashioned posters, antique-looking things that strike her on first glance as kitsch, utter kitsch, even charming in their way. The Bearded Lady. The Mermaid.
Vampire Boy.
Wolfman.
They seem like set-dressings, really - backgrounded against the brilliant lights of the carnival, mawkish allusions to some antiqued past. There are other posters, too: for the Big Dipper. The House of Mirrors.
The House of Horrors.
- and snow cones. "Buy them!" the poster says, over an illustration of a man in a Good Humor-style uniform and cap and a too-white smile, serving one to a small boy in overalls. "They're great!"
Catchy slogan, that.
While the letterman works to win the seal - with the sort of feverish intensity that a boy like that would usually reserve only for getting laid or getting a touchdown, growing more and more - frustrated with every failure - Gwen watches the girl watching her, discretely. The girl, the kid, has a utility belt around her waist, sagging with tools, and STAFF is imprinted on the back of her longsleeved tee. A handful of trashbags are looked through her belt, but mostly she's watching. Locals, kids and adults, chattering children, more - cut between them, up and down the muddy aisle, and the girl busies herself briefly with the trash, pulling out a huge bag from a metal container, replacing it with another. Round cheeks, dark eyes, a pale complexion, half-gloves on her hands, the sort that leave the fingers free.
Indecision is written across her face. Once, one of the barkers walks by - a tall man dressed in a pinstripped suit with the exagerrated tails of a comic's tuxedo - and she ducks her head, busying herself at her work. When Gwen looks back, the girl has disappeared behind the structure of the bathrooms, just moved away.
---
The clown's mouth isn't the only way in. Though at first Roman thinks they have the place locked up tight, a second look tells him how easily those barriers can be crossed. They are shoulder height on Simon, taller on Roman, but they are lashed together with twine and chain, an improvised fence, easily crossed away from the main entrance, out of view of the road if they want, among the warren of trailers of the carnival folk.
[Fate] "Come on."
He nudged the others and lead them down the row of Streamliners, way down the row till he found just the right place to climb over.
"We go without paying and tipping them off right away. Someone give me a foot up."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's mouth pressed into a thin line of what could be irritation, confusion, or displeasure when her view is cut off by a man in pinstripes and coattails, and then the girl is suddenly gone. She looked meek, like she was torn between doing something disobedient and bad and just keeping her head low and deciding not to. Again, she recalled conversations with Alethea.
It hides everywhere, from fast food restaurants to alleys to high school classrooms-- not to freak you out or anything, but you always need to be on your toes, okay? Expect it not just anywhere, but everywhere.
Suspicion, she figured, was worth checking into. So she slipped past the frustrated boy and his girlfriend and moved back toward the skeeball tent, hands in her hoodie pockets, posture nothing but casual (but the kind of casual that came with a purpose, that made her look like she knew what she was doing and like she belonged, as opposed to bored and meandering, or worse, snooping). She didn't jump behind the tent, but rather leaned forward to stick her head and shoulders out into the pathway behind the stands and tents set up to present a wide alley to the patrons.
Left glance, right glance.
Where'd she go?
[Bone-Grinder] Simon was quick to aid Roman over the fence. He didn't exactly want to be spotted himself, this was a stealth mission until noted otherwise and he was going to play it as just that. Surprising as it might seem this Full Moon was surprisingly talented when it came to being stealthy about things. It was important to him after all... Stealth is how the smart Full Moon lives to see his thirtieth birthday.
[Bone Writer] He remains somewhat...distant for a moment as Roman offers an order. The Ragabash isn't argued with, prior experience and Recon. mode at this point. There wasn't anything considerably horrible about this moment (even better that they weren't going through the damn mouth). He follows, distracted, somewhat wordless for the first time since arriving to Chicago's borders. The knapsack is hitched over his shoulder and at first it almost seems as if they have to lead him to the fencing.
It's a long moment before the Godi is back in this world again, blinking rapidly and scrubbing at his eyes with finger and thumb.
"Need to keep an eye out here. Moreso than just the physical. Things flipside are solid. Stronger than they should be. Not just the location but the people. It's like they're covered in gauze or something. I'm tempted to go Weaver but...this doesn't feel like it. Not normally anyway."
[Carousel] There's this narrow sort of utilitarian alley between the booths, ugly back here. The restroom stink is sharper, and there are slops and trash everywhere. Gwen's feet sink into some half-formed something in the mud, sliding as she ducks her head back there. The shadows are different. Brighter lights bleed through the back of the booths, the games on the midway, the food concessions - but just on the other side of the restrooms is the long, blank wall of the House of Horrors, all black, jet.
The girl is standing back there, that huge, full trash bag lumpen at her feet, her hands twisted once and again around the stretched plastic, her head back, looking up at the sliver of the sky visible between the overhangs of the trucks and the booths.
Caught by surprise, a momentary panic flies across her features. Her eyes go wide, and she draws in a sharp, sudden breath. "Shit," she says, with feeling, feeling her pulse rise, her throat closing. She looks up at Gwen, then away, back down the quiet, still alley between the booths, then back.
" - you shouldn't be here."
The girl tells Gwen, low-voiced, wary, this thread of fear underneath the quiet, this thread of longing underneath the fear.
[Fate] "It's freaks Mister Linus, just freaks and they done got some other weird things in them I tell ya."
He whispered when he said that, then one hand on Simon's shoulder and he stepped in the stirrups formed by Simon's laced fingers and went over the barrier, dropping to the ground in a crouch as he waited for the other two.
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] "Didn't see any signs sayin' so."
Gwen defended herself for being back behind the booths with a jerk of her thumb toward the blank red-and-white stripes of the skeeball tent. Sure, it was common sense and courtesy that you didn't walk into a backway that was left unlit and intentionally placed out of the way, even if it didn't have 'Employees Only' put in writing somewhere. However, here in America, the land ruled by legal disclaimers and foundations set in lawsuits, these kinds of excuses tended to fly a little easier.
"But then," Gwen tucked a shock-red strand of hair behind her ear so it stopped dangling in her face and clinging to her eyelashes, "you shouldn't stare people down like you wanna wear their skin either."
She sucked her teeth against her lower lip, straightened up with her chin level with the ground, and peered with stern gray-hazel eyes at the chubbier, probably somewhat shorter girl with some adolescent, misplaced air of authority and the sense of being stone-solid about her. Tough chick, for sure.
"So what's up?"
[Bone-Grinder] Dex+Stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] "We really should have done this flip-"
He's turning around from eyeing that giant mouth again to finally notice that both young men are gone. A quick survey of the fence and it's other side through the links reveals little else as well, leaving Linus to perk a brow and slump his shoulders, an audible
"Sigh!" Cracking his lips, before he grumbles under his breath and takes several glances around. His jaw juts and one hand reaches into the pocket of his slacks, fishing around for some change and the scratch of paper bills.
[Fate] He thought Linus had followed them, in fact, it never entered his mind that the guy was out in la la land gathering wool. He whispered to Simon, close to his ear.
"Where is he? Miss Kora is gonna kill me if I done lost her little brother, no matter how much he needs his mouth washed out."
[Bone Writer] He pulls a five and goes ambling his way toward the Clown's mouth, glaring at it suspiciously and pausing a good dozen feet from the Ticket entrance and the Ticket Vendor beyond.
"Get of Fucking Fenris, you coked up tranny. S'french for I ain't ever scared."
And he goes tromping through the mouth in search of a Ticket of Entry.
[Carousel] with a hand-up from Simon, Roman vaults the fence easily and quietly, landing on the other side. The thing is flimsy, not a proper fence, and it sways under his feet and hands noiselessly as he vaults it. Roman realizes that he can probably push it open from inside, enough that the others can half-climb, half-squeeze their way over the barrier.
The little village of airstreams and RVs, fifth wheels and tenses is quiet now except for the hum of the generators, of the engines. The lights of the carnival - the Ferris Wheel, the Big Dipper - gleam in the curved skins of the airstream trailers, but most of the trailers and tents are deserted, the inhabitants working for the evening. Someone's left her laundry out, drying on a line strung together between a pair of trailers, lacy underwear with three leg holes floating in the breeze. A sort of stillness lingers back here, away from the lights and they excitement. The song of the calliope is distant but constant here. Some loud bell announces, suddenly, that someone won the strongman contest Simon was so intent on winning before.
When Roman climbs over the barrier, he feels this little pop in his ears, like a change of elevation, as if he were driving up a mountain, as if he were flying somewhere, the plane climbing into the sky. It's the same for the others, each of them, when they climb across.
Just a little pop.
---
The ticket booth for Linus. It's there, just inside the clown's mouth, illuminated from inside. There's an old woman with paper thing skin and these deep set, dead-looking eyes leaning over one of the windows, and a sharp-faced boy with deep, rich skin the color of mahoghany on the other. The woman appears to be sleeping, but she'll sharpen her eyes when Linus approaches, money in hand for a ticket.
"How many you want, sonny?" - the woman asks him, leaning forward, her scent this sort of dry, talcum powder and rot scent that is clear every through the glass, at least when she leans close to the barrier as she does now, and speaks, and smiles, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth that some hidden part of Linus swears are bloodstained. "Tickets is two for a dollar or fifteen for five."
--
something about the question's tone strengthen's the girl's spine, opens her mouth. "No! - " she has these amber colored eyes that catch the light and shine, rich undertones evident, and this ratty brown hair. " - I mean here. You, you shouldn't be here. You should, you should go before they find you. The whole place is what I mean. I - I know what you are. Jones taught me what to look for, he said they'd come for him, and take him away, and he'd take me too, and I'd -
"- you aren't." The girl swallows, hard. And continues, leaning toward Gwen, intent, confident now, even as her scent sharpens with underlying fear. " - you aren't supposed to be here. You best be careful or you'll get - you'll get stuck. I - you really should go."
[Bone Writer] "Gimme 2."
He hands the money over and waits for his change, not bothering to look the vendor hag over too closely either. His gaze is already pushing past Her toward the opening into the carnival itself. He needs to track down those two again and make sure they aren't all separated permanently, especially considering it was his first time in the land of Oz. A grunt comes, gaze flitting off through the glowing lights and bob of heads as the locals take part in the welcoming atmosphere.
[Fate] Before he knew it Simon had joined him but they had lost Linus. The little pop in his ears blew the early warning system theory though.
"Well I'll be, we'll have to work our way towards the main gate and see if we can find that danged Linus."
He cocked his head towards the gate and started slinking in that general direction, stopping to take a peek in to the first Streamliner he found a door or window to. Nothing said he couldn't be nosey along the way.
[Gwen Sullivan] Suddenly Gwen's face got a lot more serious. Previously she held her chin high and her eyes stern, but with a twinkle of some kind of amusement behind them. Like the whole thing was a game, like she could get some kind of a kick or a giggle out of stressing the girl out, out of making herself look big and bad to own up to the family heritage that she'd just recently been introduced to.
But this girl knew what she was, and was telling her that she had to get out of the carnival, the whole place, before she got stuck. Because she knew what to look for, because Jones taught her, and because 'they' would take her and Jones away, and find Gwen and take her too.
Her face turned quite solemn, to the point that the large gauges and gleaming metal piercings at her mouth didn't appear juvenile or ridiculous anymore, they were forgotten beyond the firm set of her jaw and the hard flint of her eyes. She stepped closer to the girl, reached out as though to take her by the shoulder, but hesitated and instead gestured toward the alley between the curtains, mud and electrical wires abound or not.
"I think you and I need to talk a bit more. You help me, and I can do my damnedest to help you, alright?" A pause, a moment for thought, for this to sink into the teenager's head. "Tell me what's going on here, and maybe I can help you and Jones out."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head a little and shrugs."I wouldn't sweat it too much... I mean if Kora's little brother dies she'll understand. It's like the big thing with the fenrir or some shit."He adds with a nod of his head but keeps walking alongside Roman. He wasn't about to leave another garou to wander aimlessly about this place."Keep your distance... We don't want anyone to know we are here."He says with a shrug of his shoulder. Eyes peeled and alert, he wanted to be well aware if they were being watched or trailed or anyone was approaching.
[Fate] He was good at blending and that's just what he did, he blended and worked his way back towards where Linus might come through. Though he whispered to Simon before slipping off.
"Ya know what we should do? We should find the freak show and sneak in under the back end of the tent."
[Fate] "Better yet? I've a mind to pull them there stakes out of the ground and bring the whole show down. We find Linus and between the three of us, we can take out three stakes at once. Ain't nothing gonna keep that there tent standing if we do that and all pull in the same direction."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head."Isn't that what I said earlier?"He asks Roman with a little laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. He kept quite a distance from the entrance but his eyes were there as he watched to see if Linus made it through. He might be an asshole sometimes but he wasn't gonna leave a garou to wander aimlessly and possibly die among Wyrm creatures. Well unless he did something stupid!
[Carousel] The exchange is brief and neat. Her hand feels cold and clammy as she pushes a pair of tickets and four dollar bills back through the plexiglass barrier to Linus. Four dollar bills, all the old fashioned kind, before the mint starting making them off center, with huge central portraits. The bills are a good twenty-five years out of date, each and every one of them.
Then Linus is through the clown's huge mouth, walking down the midway, scanning the booths - backed with those posters for the House of Horrors or the Freak Show, with this vague, watercolor portraits of the freaks - Vampire Boy - the Mermaid. The Wolfman.
Every sort of carnival game is here. The Duck Pond - moving river of plastic ducks in a trough - promises a prize for everyone, and everyone for a prize, while Test Your Strength offers stuffed unicorns only to the most badass of players. As Linus enters, searching the midway, trying to reorient himself, he sees a huge linebacker for the local high school team playing Test Your Strength. The indicator barely rises past "WIMPY" and his girlfriend sighs and whines - I want one of the stuffed unicorns, with rainbow butts.
--
Roman and Simon scramble through the back entrance, negotiate their way between the RVs, heading toward the lights of the carnival proper. The Ferris Wheel stands out as a becon for everyone, and the Big Dipper in the distance, illuminated like smoke against the grayed out sky. Quick-stepping but careful of the potential for detection, they cut through the narrow find the entrance to the service alley between the booths and food trucks lining the midway -
--
"Jones," the girl says to Gwen, swallowing hard, momentarily earnest. " - he's like you, right? They keep him in a cage, I know where they keep it. I have to feed him and clean up his shit when we aren't - I mean, when we aren't on. When it's not open. When we're between places, and I - look, they'll take you. I heard the MC. He wants a girl. He wants a girl so he can - "
Abruptly the girl goes still. Three booths down, a boy in a stetson and a tall, tattooed man - are cutting through the narrow serviceway. Roman and Simon see Gwen and the girl in furtive conversation at the same time the girl sees them. In the distance, an accordian starts up, and the girl - She goes still, rigid with fear and a sort of awe.
"They're like you, too," the nameless girl tells Gwen. " - they're - you're his pack. He said you'd come. He's said it all along. He said you'd come for him, and you have."
--
Nearer the entrance, Linus' progress is briefly cut off by a ragged little parade.
[Fate] He paused as they were were cutting through the serviceway and for a long moment he looked right at Gwen and the girl. Out of the side of his mouth he muttered to Simon.
"Is she looking at us? I think she is. Dang it all."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen is listening intently, eyes like granite and flint both, hard and volatile, ready to ignite, sponging the poor girl for information that she's so willing to give. Her nose wrinkled when she mentioned that the MC wanted a girl, and her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, voice swelled in the back of her throat, but she didn't say anything, deciding that a lecture on the science of Garou + Garou = Deformities and Infant Mortality wasn't exactly productive at this point.
They're like you, too.
The girl stares at and nods to a young man in a cowboy hat accompanied by a beefier looking guy with dark hair, and explains that they're the same, in a pack, that they would come and Jones said so. Gwen looked at the girl again, then gently, briefly, patted at the back of her shoulders. The touch was brief, but her arm stayed back there, framing the air behind the squat little garbage girl. "Come on, then." And she wouldn't walk unless the girl did, but regardless of whether they start moving or not she pressed the fingers of her free hand to the corners of her mouth and let out a short, sharp whistle to catch their attention.
Once she had it, she gestured them over.
[Fate] There he was thinking they were being stealthy and next thing he knew, not only did one girl look their way, but the other girl totally blew their attempt by whistling like she was calling a cab. This had him using some of his worse words, turning the air his own shade of blue.
"Dagnabit! Just like the south end of a north bound Donkey!"
[Carousel] The parade is a meager affair. The EmCee walks in front, dressed in crimson jodpurs and a long black tuxedo coat, the black so deep, so rich, it seems to have been constructed out of the color itself, it could define the meaning of shadow. Behind him, a pair of wretched looking dwarves play the accordian, which wheezes a sort of impressionistic version of the calliope's more distance song. Behind the dwarves come the freaks -
the Bearded Lady walks along, wearing a long, sweeping skirt woven with mirrors and stitched with silver thread, and a skimpy bikini top above despite the chill. she has a long, waterfall tangle of black-as-ink hair that falls down her back in luxurious waves, and a startlingly full beard. The gimp staggers next, dressed in a black straightjacket, an iron-barred mask across his face, the terrible suggestion of needle-thin teeth behind the grill. There is a girl with no more than a pair of pasties and a thong and a hip-belt of coins carrying a long, albino constrictor next, and last - a strong man - six and a half-feet tall, a mountain of muscle, pulls a large cart. With a cage that gleams silver in the lights. Inside is a man, filthy, wretched, with a six-inch silver collar around his neck, fixed by a silver chain to the back of the silver cage.
- a pair of capering dwarves dressed in jester's garb bring up the rear, handing out flyers inviting all and sundry to the Freak Show.
[Bone Writer] The Vendor is left behind with an absent-minded nod of 'Thanks' before he's pushing his way past and into the Thorough-way.
"Oh for fuck's sake..."
He mutters under his breath as the roving centrepiece of this throwback to a fallen era, comes roaming through the main walkway, much to the delight, fascinating and morbid curiosity of the crowd who gather around to jeer, chant or clap as appropriate. He stands near the back, regarding the procession with little to no avid interest, still casting out peripheral sights to see if he might recognize a stetson or bullish brow.
It's as the procession reaches it's mid-way that he shivers slightly, catching the gleam of an all too familiar presence. The Lunar metal catches the light in a dozen ways, each as recognizable to the Fenrir as the first moment he was ever burned. Each of them knows it on sight, many of them feel that tingle at a distance.
He climbs to his tip toes and scans over the heads of the crowd, hands involuntarily reaching out to steady fingers against the shoulders of several locals, only to retreat a moment later without a word despite protests and odd looks from the individuals in question. A feral twitch comes to his lips, before he is moving. Catching the gap in the crowd, long enough to take up one of the offered flyers from the wandering Dwarf.
His gaze however remains on the walking Freaks. Catching eyes where he can...stopping only as he hits the Cage and that glare of polished silver, the eyes and shape contained within.
"...The Wolfman." He murmurs, memory leaping back to one of the Posters on the Wall. The parade continues and he waits for it's rear end to come into view, before setting a course in it's wake.
[Gwen Sullivan] The parade begins to chug its way by before Gwen gets much of a chance to socialize with the two that the girl that she could only guess to be a Kinfolk just outed as being Garou as well (after all, she'd so easily guessed that Gwen was one, even picked her out of a crowd for it), and her attention is pulled to the side by a curious sensation that she hadn't experienced before.
A reaction to being in proximity to that much god damn silver. Enough to make a chain, a collar, and an entire goddamn cage. She felt like somebody was rubbing tin foil over fillings that she didn't actually have, like she was chewing on cotton, like her fingernail just got bent backwards, like somebody was scratching their fork over their plate just to make it squeak just right. She shuddered involuntarily, and took her eyes off the pudgy little teenager (who, for some reason, was being named 'Maria' in her head) to look out at the parade, to stare at the defeated looking man in the cage being carted around by an impossibly Strong Man.
"...Jones?," she asked quietly.
[Carousel] Gwen, Roman, and Simon see the parade in these patchy glimpses between the booths. The girl cowers back as much as possible, striving to remain absolutely out of view of the midway proper. As the parade continues past, down the midway, toward the attractions the Simon and Roman well-remember - the House of Mirrors and the House of Horrors and the Freak Show, the freaks displayed in that corridor that seemed to be mounted inside an 18 wheeler - impossibly long.
"Maria" is white-faced now, that sack of garbage forgotten, the stretched plastic still wrapped loosely around her wrist. There are scars there of her own, minor and old. Her stringy brown hair is pulled back from her face, into a messy ponytail, the black t-shirt is fitted to her pudgy frame, her soft breasts, her round stomach, close enough that they can almost see her heart beating.
While the accordian music plays, drifting between the attractions, "Maria" keeps her eyes shut tight, her fingers digging into her palms. Only when it has past does she open her eyes, and nod wordlessly to Gwen, affirming that that is Jones.
"I can - " the girl says, breathless, "I - can help you. I have to feed him after the show. You're here for him, right? His pack. He said you'd come. He said you'd come - that he'd feel it and you wouldn't let him stay here, that the Father didn't save him for this, that - that was - "
In that slice of the midway visible from their sheltered position, Roman catches site of Linus, outside. And linus - well, between the candy Apple booth and the Milk Jug toss, near the restrooms, he catches a glimpse of Stetson as he walks in the wake of the parade.
[Bone-Grinder] See Simon couldn't help but admire a girl with a Snake."Why is it that the Badguys always have to include a hot chick?"He asks Roman curiously, more or less keeping his attention on the lovely woman.
"What about a Donkey? Dude... I don't think that shit is legal up here in the U.S."He says this as his eyes study the woman's posterior. They might be the badguys but no one said he wasn't allowed to look!
[Fate] He was frozen in place when he caught a glimpse of the parade between barriers, it wasn't until the cage passed and he caught sight of Linus that he broke out of the horror that had held him in place.
"Did you see it? That cage?"
Then...
"There's that danged Linus!"
He asked Simon as he waved to Linus, waving him towards them even as he slipped towards the two girls.
[Bone Writer] "-I leave you two alone for one minute and you go Trollin' for tramps."
The whisper is fierce as he walks a diagonal to step in line with Roman and Simon as the paths intersect toward the Parade's rear end. He's reaching out to snag roman's sleeve and nod toward Simon for a slower pace, allowing the parade to inch by inch outpace them. It wouldn't take more than a dozen yards to catch-up again, but now was not the time for rushing into something.
"Who the fuck are they?" He flicks his chin up toward Gwen and Maria, before his eyes flick back to the Parade, honing in, it would seem on the large Silver Cage. "...And I don't think I've ever seen so much damn Hurt metal in one place. Either this rundown poverty ring of a business takes it's performances seriously or that there's a cousin in need of a key."
[Fate] "I was gonna find out who they were cause that one girl with all the shiny stuff on her face? She let out a whistle like she was calling a taxi when she saw us. Ain't every day a girl whistles at me ya know?"
He didn't want to go near that cage and he was pulling back at Linus's arm.
"Remember what I said about last time we were here? I got a bad feeling they would just love to toss us in one of them there cages."
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders while peeling his eyes away from the woman."She's not a tramp she's just misunderstood... But I can set her right. I can teach her the error of her ways."He says with a reassuring nod and a little laugh before turning his attention to Gwen and Maria."No clue... But! She seemed to wanna speak to us so maybe we should? I mean worst case scenario she's calling us over to spring a trap and kill us right?"He laughs a little and glances back at the woman once more, to snap one more memory for the road before shifting to move towards Gwen and the other woman.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen kept her arm around the poor, pale-faced girl's shoulders, a few inches back so that she wasn't making contact but was effectively mimicking comfort while keeping her from running away at the same time. The parade passed by, out of view of the crack between the tents and booths that they stood behind. She turned her head to look down at 'Maria', listened to her talk.
If there was one thing she was getting damn good at, it was listening.
Another? Noticing. That was important too.
Like noticing that she said 'The Father', and that every Garou she'd spoken to in and around the Caern had referred to their Deity as 'The Mother'. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at 'Maria's' temple, then looked past her to Roman, Simon, and Linus as they congregated near by, close enough to be in speaking distance because Roman had been walking to meet them and Linus had commented on them... if 'who the fuck are they' counts as being commented on anyways.
Rather than answer 'who' questions, she shook her head at the Godi's aloud musings and spoke in a firm voice, something that rasped just a touch, in a way that would be sultry one day when she grew into it completely. "So that was silver? Thought so..." Roman made a joke about being whistled at, and Gwen pressed on to share information.
"No. We wait, this girl here's gonna help us. And if you don't want to give that a try? Well, you go ahead and charge a silver cage. Have fun with that."
[Fate] He was starting to think this carnival was a very bad place for Simon, either that or he got the crack bowl confused with the sugar bowl when it came to sweetening his Wheaties. The comment about Tramps and setting them right was so out of no where it actually made him stumble for a moment.
"Danged, ya got to stop sucking on tail pipes when the engine's running rough."
[Bone Writer] Tugging on Linus' arm results in a sudden firmness of presence. He turns around to regard Roman with a familiar expression: It isn't as strong or prominent in Linus by any means but the cues are there. The hint of hard lines about the eyes and just between the brow. The steel of eyes more used to jest and joking. He grabs hold of Roman's arm, not hard but firmly and leans down so they're closer to eye level.
"That's one of us in that Cage. Could be a Spiral, could be Fallen, could be a fuckin' Ronin for all I know or just some Bone Gnawer got caught in the web. I'm less inclined to care much about sympathy for some bastard gets his ass caught up in something like this alone and all but..." A moment of hesitation, pulling back from Roman to regard Simon, the two women stepping into place nearby and then back to Roman again.
"We can't just let these Freaks think they can take us and put us in Cages. That ain't right. That ain't fit and that ain't how we Roll."
He relaxes his grip on Roman's arm, leaning back slightly.
"Hermodr-" And that name again, perfectly accented "-says stand. So we gotta stand..."
And then he's turning again to regard that Parade growing more distant.
"...Just not directly in the path. Fuck knows we're not stupid." A nod to Simon and Roman, before turning to eye Gwen and Maria.
"Alright. So she knows something-" His eyes remain on Maria. "-What can you tell us about the One in the Cage?"
[Bone Writer] It isn't as strong or as prominent as Kora's own^
[Fate] Gwen's out of nowhere comment on charging cages was another stumbling point.
"Well ma'am, I ain't right sure ya should be attempting mind reading without no cards."
He was a bit put off by a stranger figuring they weren't bright enough to screw in a light bulb.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."What I suck on in my own time is none of your business kiddo."He adds with a grin and a wink.
He then looks back at Bone Writer with a somewhat confused look on his face."These folks don't much look like they care much about what we think they should be doing. They look more the kinds who know full well what we are and would delight in seeing us all in cages... So long as that boy is in a cage they can put him in a cage all he likes it's the way of thw world. We'll help his ass if we can but we're not gonna do anything stupid. If they can put him in a cage they can sure as fuck put any of us in a cage if we're not careful."He says with a nod of his head.
Soon enough they have reached the other two and Simon keeps a step or two back watching over the area and generally making use of himself.
[Fate] He agreed with Linus and so bit back some of his irritation, putting on his best manners.
"Ma'am and Ma'am."
The crown of his stetson was grasped to lift the hat an inch of his head as he nodded to each.
"As my friend here just said, we need to do something about that fella and that cage and these folks here doing this stuff. But we also ain't so stupid we are going to rush in like pumpkin heads. Ain't our first rodeo."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen stared between the three strangers as they spoke, but her eyes wound up lingering on Roman a little bit longer, particularly when he tipped his hat and greeted herself and her pudgy sidekick with a pair of 'ma'am's. Her expression was more befuddled than anything else, but she blinked it away and shook her head, tapped her teeth against her lower lip piercing for a second, and finally turned to look 'Maria' back in the face.
She spoke with authority in her voice when addressing the girl, but it was quieter with her. More guiding than threatening. 'Do this for the good' rather than 'do this or I break your spine'.
"When do you feed him?"
[Fate] "There's also a time constraint on us. If this here Carnival gets itchy feet and decides to move before we leave it? We are gonna be sucked along with it. Ain't no saying when or where we will come out again when it lands."
[Carousel] They can hear the song of the accordians receding. As it disappears, and the EmCee with it, the girl relaxes, though not entirely, into Gwen's mimicry of comfort. It is clear to all of them that the pale-faced girl is in the grip of a keen sort of anxiety, stress sharp in her body, in her eyes. her knuckles are white from the strength of her grip around the tail ends of the trash bag. "Maria" stares forward, her amber-colored eyes darting from Roman to Linus to Simon - who eyes the derriere of the woman with the snack as she recedes, under she disappears.
Just once, the snake-woman turns around, looks at Simon, meets his eyes and licks her lips, slowly, savoringly. Then turns away.
"After, you know, I clean at night. I take their meals and clean out the cages, and once you get Jones out, you're gonna get me out too, right? I can go with you. Jones says that you guys can get us out of here. That you can pull out the roots and - "
--
The girl draws in a sharp breath, cuts a glance then at Bone-Writer. "...that's Jones. He's - " she pauses, breathes out sharply. "He's my friend, and he told me that you'd come. He's like you, and he's been here longer than I have, but he told me how to look for you and said I should be ready for when his pack comes. That you'd come to save him, and you'd take me out, too. I - we're - "
--
"After the parade, there's a show," the girl continues, this hushed rush of words. " - in the big-tent. Then they shut down the show for like twenty minutes while they go back to the cages, the ones they can take out. That's when I feed them, Jones and the mermaid too. Then they'll reopen for the show again. And I clean the cages, after. When we're Between.
"I - " The girl freezes, hearing something, feeling something, and looks back sharply behind her, down the row of booths. Four or five booths down, someone has opened the back door of one of the food trucks and is throwing out slops from a pail onto the ground. " - I have to go. If they see me, I'm meat. Behind the House of Freaks after the show, find me there, and I'll - "
"I'll let you in."
The girl starts to break away from Gwen, then stops abruptly, uncurls her hand from the trash bag, and digs into her front pocket. Pulls out a hand written letter, folded many times over, and shoves it toward Gwen, palm up.
" - it's a letter to my mom, in case? So she won't worry. So she'll know where I am. And - and - "
Another door starts to open, and "Maria" gathers up her trash back and starts to leave, dragging it behind her, looking sharply back at them once, then firmly, directly away.
[Fate] He was very curious who the two girls were and if they were part of this carnival. One felt like she had that special feeling to her that made her one of them. Then the one with the trash bags rushed her information out saying she had to go but would meet them, so he reassured her.
"We'll help pull them roots out. We'll be there when ya go to feed."
[Bone Writer] "...I think we're good for a while. Carnies are intent on the locals they brought in and the night's still young. They still have a lot of pockets to grift and the Freaks ain't even gone on to perform 'cept for this 'Come one, Come All' parade."
He nods toward the Crowd, large numbers of people following in the wake of the Freak Show, intent on viewing the big event to come.
"Schedule is like Maria says. So long as we keep our noses clean and don't make major trouble, we should have at least until the end of the Show." A reassuring hand is set on Roman's shoulder, nodding at the Ragabash, even if his features are a little grave. "Doesn't mean we relax but I'm thinking we're leaning on you to do things quick and quiet-like."
He turns back to Maria finally as she begins to divulge information. His gaze narrows evenly, the grave measure building in his features until the Girl darts off with her Trash bag. He lets her go without comment or nod, turning back to the Tent again.
"Got a Cousin in a Silver Cage and at best? Some kin kid scared out of her wits. Both are waiting for a pack to come in and lift 'em out." He sucks his lips between his teeth thoughtfully. "I didn't hear any other names. Signs or rank. She's been kept ignorant and there's no telling what mental state this Jones is in. Don't even know rank...moon or deed..."
A pause.
"I don't like it. Not enough info...we need more..."
[Bone Writer] "...Need to talk to this Jones directly...Get a better feel..."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was quiet while the girl gave her stammered, anxious bits of information. They had a time, they had a place, and that was the makings of a plan. The entrance of one, anyways. Before rushing away, a piece of paper that was worn and folded and smudged was pressed into her hand, a possible last request made, and Gwen stared sharply after the girl as she retreated with resolve set on her soft little shoulders.
Her mouth pressed in that displeased line again, and the paper was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans before she turned to address the guys that had joined her.
"She'd said something about this Jones fellow talking about The Father's plans... The Father, as opposed to The Mother. We don't have a Father too, do we?" Her expression is incredulous at the idea, and she flows smoothly into the other thing she picked up from the nerve-wracked teenager. "I don't think it's like what you mentioned earlier, though." This to Simon, more specifically, for what he had said earlier. "I don't think they know specifically what we are, I think he just got caught unawares. Most idiots know the myth of silver, and someone's bound to try it. It's just dumb luck that it's one of the true ones.
"She said that the EmCee is looking for a girl werewolf too... For obvious intent, if you ask me. If that's actually his intent, then he must not actually know a lot about us."
[Fate] "I'm Roman by the way, a Coggie."
He looked directly at Gwen when speaking.
"Mind if I ask who you are, Ma'am? I know for a fact that they want a female Garou. I know for a fact it is easy enough to trap one of us after being here before and seeing how they operated then. And I must say, at best they want a female for her breeding abilities, cause they done got a male."
[Bone Writer] "Kingdom for a Phil-"
The Father
His attention snaps around harshly toward Gwen, features a plague of displeasure. He steps forward a pace staring at her, voice settling into a harsh whisper.
"The Father? You're sure that's what she said?" He's adamant, watching Gwen's face for any uncertainty. Finding none, his lip rolls, something akin to an inaudible snarl before turning back to Simon and Roman, exhaling loudly. Gwen finishes her suppositions and Linus steps away from the three a pace or two scratching at his stubbled head.
"He's a Spiral." Under his breath, quiet enough that only the three of them could hope to hear it.
"The Father's a reference to the Cosmological ideals of some of the Bastards zealot number. Name's Him as Husband to the Mother, before and after. They claim he is the true path and way." Linus lip tucks between his teeth again, eyes regarding the distant path where the parade had vanished.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."Rank, Moon and deed don't matter... We pull him out and then we sort through that shit. If nothing else we put him out of his misery... Who knows how long he has been her or if he is even one of us as we understand it. Helping people doesn't always have to mean pulling them out of the fire... Sometimes shooting them in the head so they die a quick and painless death is the best you can do."He shrugs his shoulders and looks between the others with cautious eyes.
"What did she mean about pulling roots?"He asks the others curiously before settling back a bit."The whole operation is a bit bigger than I would like especially if they can drag us all with it. Means there is some kinda force or magic underlying this all which means... That is what we are looking for and that is what we wanna stop if at all possible."He says with a nod of his head."It also means they might know full well we are here..."He then gets a bit of a smile on his face."We need more information but kidnapping and torturing one of them isn't exactly something we can do effectively on the fly and might tip them off to our presence. If they don't know we are here then we don't want them knowing but just the same lets pretend, for our own sake, they know full well that we are here and tracking everything that we do. So any plan we come up with should take that matter into consideration."He says with a nod of his head.
"If I recall the MC guy was afraid of something... So if we get a chance he might be the best option as far as questioning. He's seen us in action and if we can get our hands on him he knows what we're capable of... But he can't see me or Roman coming if he gets that chance he'll respond accordingly. Don't assume that these freaks are harmless... That strong man alone could probably beat any of us to a bloody pulp with his bare fists. Most are probably Fomori or worse..."He looks around cautiously."Don't talk to the carnies either... No games."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's mouth worked silently around the word 'Coggie' for a moment as she tried to place it in memory, or to an inked and possibly highlighted or underlined word in her notebook that should probably be burned sometime soon so she wasn't leaving behind veil-rendering evidence planned out so neatly for people that could stumble upon it.
Coggie... Cog... CoG. Child of Gaia. A tribe, right.
"Ah, right. Roman." And then the guy that had appeared after the beefy man and the cowboy kid had showed up was all but bearing down on her, even though all he was doing was glaring and whispering harshly. She blinked like a deer in the headlights for a second, then nodded. "I guessed so. Alethea kept calling The Wyrm a 'Him'..."
And then back to the original thought-- she looked to Roman, and now Simon as well. "This has happened before?"
And, as an afterthought: "Ohshit. Hey, yeah, I'm Gwen. And incredibly new to this."
[Gwen Sullivan] Last Posts:
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was quiet while the girl gave her stammered, anxious bits of information. They had a time, they had a place, and that was the makings of a plan. The entrance of one, anyways. Before rushing away, a piece of paper that was worn and folded and smudged was pressed into her hand, a possible last request made, and Gwen stared sharply after the girl as she retreated with resolve set on her soft little shoulders.
Her mouth pressed in that displeased line again, and the paper was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans before she turned to address the guys that had joined her.
[Fate] He peered at Gwen, looking pass her in the direction the girl ran off in, then in the direction the parade of the Damned went.
"We have a big show going on in the big tent after the parade. Then the girl feeds the Mermaid and that Jones fella. She said then they do another show and between shows she cleans cages. Says she will meet us behind the Freak Show and let us in after it is over. I remember the Freak show tent. I bet you do too Simon."
He looked at Simon as he spoke, then back to the others, especially Gwen.
"How do we know this girl is not setting us up?"
He was Ragabash, caution was his meat and potatoes.
[Bone Writer] "We don't. "
His attention returns to the others, regarding Roman first and then each of them in turn.
"But what other options do we have right now? Pick up and go home? Push in from the umbra which is more of a threat? Walk in and gut everything in sight and hope we have the manpower for whatever they've got to provide?"
He shrugs, unbuttoning the length of his gray coat, murmuring quietly in the wake of the Parade already vanished from sight.
"I say we take the plan. Shit goes south, we go umbral. I should be able to guide us out from the Spirit, so long as we stay together and don't get separated."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head back at Gwen."We bumped into these folks a while back. I think they were wanting to take one of us alive... Best that Roman and I keep out of sight as much as possible. We don't wanna be spotted by the locals."
He then nods his head at Roman."You're right we don't know that she isn't setting us up. This could be exactly how they plan on getting their hands on a new toy."He says this with a shrug of his shoulders."It would be a clever act on their part but far from beyond the realm of possibilities. So if we're gonna go forward with this we should do so carefully and cautiously... Never put anything past a Wyrm creature however unlikely it might appear."He turns his attention to Gwen."As the only Female werewolf here I think we might know who the most likely target would be."He says before looking around.
"I'd much ratrher go through the Emcee to get our hands on the prisoner, however, That makes things a little rougher and a little more dangerous. This turns from a rescue mission into something a little more heated. But then again I didn't come here with the intention of doing too much rescuing myself. Secondary objectives... I think ending the threat would do far more good than helping a single misplaced Garou."
"But her plan does sound solid at the very least."
[Slaughter] Out on the mid-way, redhair flashes, pale skin, a slight body. The freaks have marched already, and the crowd is starting to dissipate from either side, some crossing, some simply heading further in. The red-hair (and pure-breeding) moves as the kinwoman steps out onto the midway, her head turning to look in the direction where the freaks have gone, her hands, absently tucked into the pockets of her jeans, keeping the coat secure from the tug of the wind, keeping it from fluttering, as she keeps it open.
Too far to see her expression - too far to see if she frowns or smiles or merely looks bland. But close enough to see the red hair - close enough to recognize her, at least, if you've seen her before.
[Carousel] The wheezing accordian music still seems to echo down the midway. There's a brief, lingering sort of silence in the wake of the small parade, this stillness - everyone's stopped, the barkers, the chefs, the deep fry cooks, the game-players, the games - everyone's stopped to watch the parade and its macabre assortment of broken human beings.
Then - as the sound of the accordians - one out of tune with the other - fades, life returns to the midway. From their sheltered place between the booths and food trucks, they can hear bits of conversations. Some football player demanding another three balls, a girl shrieking in delight over some prize. A man drawling some explanation to another about prostheses, make-up, special effects. Another hooping that lady with this shake shows more than her boobs at the midnight show, reporting that her heard from one of the carnis that the midnight one's special. Only four hours away now.
- there's music in the background, the whirl of lights from the Rock'n'Roll express. The scent of deep fried dough and spilled beer, underneath some animal scent, dry-dust.
Three stalls down, the back door of a white food truck opens, and someone throws out first one, then two small bags of trash.
[Bone Writer] (Perception + Investigation: Diff 6 - PB.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)
[Gwen Sullivan] "I don't think this is so much about helping out a misplaced Garou, especially not if he's on the wrong side of the ideological fence." Gwen was eyeballing Simon uncertainly while he spoke, one hand in her snug hoodie pocket while the other hand twirled and fiddled with the spiraling decoration that was looped through the gauge in her left ear. You could call it a nervous habit, she wouldn't call it anything, just stop for a few minutes if it was pointed out.
"I think it's more about the Veil. We can't keep a secret with something like this guy out on public display, you know? Most people'll dismiss it, but someone will try and... I don't know, maybe buy him for scientific study? And then a whole can of worm's will open.
"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't stop the operation entirely while we're here too, right? I mean, this is the second time it's cropped up already."
There's a pause, and the hand that played with her ear dropped into her pocket as well, and she looked at Linus doubtfully. "...Is there a way to piggyback into the spirit world? I...'ve only been once."
[Bone Writer] "Dude...is that who..."
Linus catches the red. Blinking, frowning, scowling and jaw dropped momentarily. He shifts stance to regard the crowd, head bouncing back and forth to maintain view of the image burned through the drab and regular.
"...I...think it is?" His voice grows exceedingly more agitated as the words trickle out, feet already beginning to pluck at the mid-way in Her direction. It isn't until Gwen pipes up that Linus snaps his attention back around toward her, the frown remaining.
"What? No, not without a bond. Pack. Shit you really are new? This isn't the time or place for a fucking cub." The last part said more to the others though his eyes remain on Gwen.
"You stick close to me and if the time comes, do what you did the first time. It's like reaching only you don't think, you do. I won't go across until you're gone and someone else has gone with you, now just...hold on..."
And he's peeling away from the Group again, eyes flicking to Roman, pointing.
"Do you know...who that is?"
[Fate] He was looking at Gwen like she might of smoked some wild weed when Linus popped up and put her straight. It was when he pointed out Imogen that his attention shifted.
"Well I'll be a two headed calf. That there is Miss Doctor Slaughter. What in the tarnation is she doing here?"
[Fate] It wasn't a moment later that he was fishing a cell out of his pocket and punching one of the numbers while watching Imogen across the way. When she answered he spoke.
"Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am. If ya would kindly look dead ahead and a little to the right, ya see that there gap between things? See that there hand a waving? Ya think ya could do me the pleasure of joining me here in this here dark gap? I'd be right honored."
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."This is a Wyrm operation not a Civilian operation... If this Carnival is, in fact, capable of sucking people in as it disappears and reappearing elsewhere then the entire thing is some kinda fucked up. I don't know what it would be? Maybe like a Wyrmhole but different? Protecting the Veil isn't really a concern cause I don't think they are going to be letting their werewolf be studied. I think the real threat lay in the fact that this place can disappear and reappear anywhere it pleases on a whim carrying off it's victims at it pleases without anyone being the wiser. We've got a far bigger threat than the life of a Single Garou and some supposedly innocent girl going on here. End the operation and we save them all... But if we only save them then we are abandoning hundreds if not thousands who will be tainted, corrupted, or simply whisked away by this fucked up place. I think it should be pretty clear that ending the threat should be our primary concern here. We end the threat and we help thousands of people in the process... Not that helping people is our objective it's just a good enough reason."
"As it stands that Garou is useless to us. We have no idea if it is even salvageable. Who knows maybe it will freak out and have to be killed when we free it? Maybe it's a Black Spiral Dancer? It is of no immediate help to us... It's life is forfeit at the moment. All our lives are... We know the risks we take when we walk into a situation and we understand that Capture and worse are possible consequences for those actions. I would love to help him but I think we've got much bigger fish to fry. This isn't Heroes... First we gotta save the World then we can worry about the fate of the Cheerleader."
[Gwen Sullivan] Linus stared at her as though she'd sprouted an extra arm, and then the expression shifted to something that made it seem as though she'd just had an accident on the dining room rug and was being scolded harshly for it. She flushed at the cheeks and ears, appeared ashamed if only for a few seconds before the unfamiliar and too-potent force of Rage boiled at her skin and fired up in her ribcage like a bad case of heartburn.
Her weight shifted between her feet, her lips parted enough for an irritated sigh to pass through them, but the words didn't follow after. Sure, they bounced about in her skull, the snide, firey comebacks of any teenage girl, but they were left unspoken.
Rather, she watched Roman with his cellphone, watched Linus staring out into the crowd, and found herself wondering who they'd just spotted, besides the obvious of the name that the Child of Gaia had just spoken.
[Slaughter] From their vantage point, they can see the redhead retrieve a mobile from her pocket, glancing at the call display before answering. "Dr. Slaughter," she says, though she knows who it is.
Silence while he speaks, and when he's done - well, from this distance, whether she sees him or not is hard to tell, but she hangs up without another word. Moments later, the good doctor is headed in their direction, her phone returned to her pockets, her hands in the same position.
"Fancy meeting you here," she says, a greeting which is primarily directed at Roman, though she's met Simon in the past.
[Fate] "Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am."
He lifted his hat by the crown, canting his head to her.
"This hear is Simon, Linus who's Kora's lil brother and this here."
He indicated Gwen.
"Is Miss Gwen who we just met. We were wondering if ya might want to join us in a trip to the Freak Show. We're either going to save the world or end up in a big ole silver cage. Now don't that sound like a fine way to spend a Fall evenin?"
[Bone Writer] "Whattttt the-"
He's pointing. Repeatedly at Imogen, his attention leveled on Roman throughout the proceeding.
"You know that-" He turns suddenly, regarding Imogen, hands held up like he was about to handle something fragile or imply a lack of aggression "-Apologies, Slaughter, not looking to step on your parade but...you really shouldn't be here. Major issues with Corruption and possible Dancers and regardless of who you are and just how much bad ass is actually attached to your name? I think you better find an exit out of- fuck, no that doesn't work..."
His hand slaps his forehead, before running up his scalp and over the stubble there.
"Escort necessary but that reduces our numbers and no guarantee we won't get spotted." He's thinking, a brief interruption given to Roman "-Younger, Kora's shorter than I am-" pacing back and forth in a tight path.
"We can't take her with us into this!" He turns finally, looking somewhat frustrated by the entire thing, hands spread as if awaiting other options.
[Gwen Sullivan] "What escort necessary?"
Gwen, ever helpful, piped up again, even if the burn of Rage was still charring her ribs and sizzling the ends of her sentences. She moved a hand from her pocket to point from the shoulder toward the large clown head that made up the front gate.
"Who's stopping her from walking back out?"
[Fate] "Language around a Lady...."
He shook his head, then looked at the others, including Imogen.
"Time's wasting. The longer we stand in one spot, the more the chance someone will stumble over us. Let's get moving through the back ways here, we'll head for that big ole tent to peek under it at the show, then station ourselves so we all ain't standing out when we go to meet that there girl. If anyone can pass for normal in this here bunch, it's Miss Doctor Slaughter. She might have purdy hair and eyes and all, but she ain't got the anger that bleeds from us."
[Slaughter] Imogen regards Bone Writer as he - well - rants, her expression even-keeled. Very little flickers over alabaster
"Look," she says quietly. "I didn't know yeh had an operation 'ere, and I was 'ere to check it out before callin' Full-Bloods to let them know. Now that I am here, and you are here, yeh ha' two options. Yeh can accept my track record fer what it is, concede that I am moderately intelligent and therefore capable o' stayin' back behind Garou while pickin' targets t'help you out, or yeh can let me turn here and walk out without wastin' one o' yer warriors on me.
"Frankly, I don't care which yeh pick as the risk to me is the same either way. If I can help you, I'll help you. If yeh think I'll be in your way, then yer own your own and so am I."
A beat.
"But don't waste time talkin' or arguing about it. Like he said," a tilt of her head, "The longer yeh stand in one spot." She doesn't quite trail off, though she does end it there.
[Bone-Grinder] He looks at Imogen and then around to the others then back to Imogen."I think it's Dr. Slaughter's choice if she wants to be of use to us or not... I really don't think we need to coddle or hide our kin or anyone's kin from danger just because it rears it's ugly head. Girl can make her own choices..."He knew she held a genuine lack of interest in the affairs of Garou so he didn't exactly think she would offer much help but still he was a Shadow Lord and Kin were expected to be able to be of use to their tribe in ways other than breeding.
[Slaughter] The look Imogen gives Simon as he begins to speak suggests he should shut up. It's enough to blister the skin.
[Carousel] The rickety structure of a wooden rollercoast rises in the middle distant against the smoke gray sky. It looks as if it might be a good half-mile or more distant. Just Imogen's cell rings, another car ratchets up the incline toward the top of the monstrous hill, curving around a narrow bank until -
- she turns away, folds her phone into her pockets, and cuts between the bean-bag toss and the Fresh Squeezed Lemonade! truck. The scent of used vegetable oil and discarded trash sharpens as she approaches the group.
Three booths down, another bag of garbage joins the first two.
Another bag of garbage joins the first two.
Someone's whistling - not Dixie but Disney. Whistle while you work.
---
And then a boot on the top step of the - Bar-B-Que pit, a cowboy boot, snakeskin, with the hint of metal that is the edge of a spur.
[Bone Writer] He stares at Roman, jaw hanging slightly, head beginning a very slight bounce back and forth until it's a full blown disbelieving waver.
"Look..." Hands up again, swallowing slowly and exhaling with calm in mind.
"There's a difference between a Kin in the wrong place at the wrong time, mid-fisticuffs and bringing one along knowingly into a situation we don't have any immediate control over-" And then Imogen is talking and Linus shuts up. Just, clicks off and snaps his attention toward her. A sharp inhale later and that disbelieving shake of the head returns.
"...Fine." A grit-toothed thing. A finger raises, leveling at Roman, voice lowering slightly. "But we're not done talking about this-"
And he's turning toward the midway again, that frown not going away anytime soon.
"So our plan is to what? Get in with the Girl-" He waves a hand ambiguously, obviously having forgotten her name already "-that was here with Gwen's help? Kak the body in the cage and pull out?"
[Fate] More trash flew out the back of the booth, all to whistled music. Then the spurred boot appeared and he hissed.
"Move."
With that he melded off in the direction of the big tent, slipping one arm around Imogen's shoulder as he lifted his voice slightly.
"Why sure thing Sugar. Ya want one of them there fluffy bears, I'll win one for ya. But first my little brother wants to see the show."
He looped the other arm over Linus shoulder, chuckling like they were having a good ole time as he started edging them away from possible trouble with being overheard or spotted for what they were too soon.
[Fate] "Ya coming Johnny or are ya gonna stand out here making out with your girl?"
He spoke over a shoulder to Bone Grinder, just making up names as he went.
"Ya know ya want to see that show as much as we do."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen and Roman noticed the person exiting the back of his booth at (perhaps precisely) the same time, and responded accordingly. He spoke, and she merely acted, hunching her shoulders up grudgingly like any teenager about to get caught sneaking a cigarette or a joint out from the public eye would.
One hand moved from her pocket to yank her sweater hood up over the distinguishable Crayola coloring of her hair, and her eyes sharpened accusingly at Roman when he paired her up with Simon as a part of the 'We're normal kids!' facade he was throwing out loud and obvious to throw anyone off the trail of suspicion. She looked to Simon next, wrinkled her nose up some, and trudged forward after Roman and his rodeo buckle go-get-em attitude.
[Bone-Grinder] The look he gets from the Kin prompts him to look back at the woman. His smile shows through though those eyes show something far less than enjoyment or pleasure. The eyes of a Full Moon were easy enough to read especially when they were dripping with contempt. The full moon immediately begins to move slipping in with the group and keeping close enough.
He heard the clicking of a Spur. The little clang set the hairs on the edge of his neck on edge. Battle was his way of life, and it was almost startling how something so simple could put him in defensive mode, ready to lash out and slay anything that so much as made the wrong move.
He listens to fate and stops himself from correcting the New Moon on his name. After all he could have just as easily called him Simon."I don't care much for shows... Specially freak shows. All of them together in one place like that. At least it gets the majority of the crowds away from the booths. Gives you a chance to enjoy the rest of the show."This was stupid to him. He wasn't big on pretending to be anything more or less than what he actually is. Acting was not a talent he prided himself on. Stealth, Cunning, Raw Brutality these were what defined a warrior. Besides during the show was the best time for them to be out and about dealing with the problem.
[Carousel] In the service alley behind the midway, a body follows, taking the two steps down from the parked truck to reach down and grab the bags. The man is moderately sized, whip-lean, wearing jeans under a white apron smeared with some dark substance. He has gray hair, thinning at the crown, pulled back into a pony tail, and he is straightening, bags in hand, whistling an off-tune version of
Moon River -
Closer, there's a loud, gaseous sort of sigh as a hydraulics system somewhere close expells a sharp burst of air, lowering something quickly. Some ride, some spider-thing, covered in lights erupts toward the sky. A girl shrieks one of those bright, noisy sounds that glides on the razor line of delight and fear. Roman slides an arm around Imogen's shoulder as if they were - well, high school kids at their homecoming fair. The midway is crowded now, a group of football players gathered around the Test Your Strength towers, striking to win stuffed animals - not for their girlfriends, now, but for themselves, this kind of living fever there.
They emerge between the Lemonade Stand and the bean-bag toss, passing just under one of those water-colored advertisements for the Freak Show's Mermaid - this vision of a demonspirit, sharp-eyed, white-skinned, with alien eyes and long, thick fingernails sharpened to pin-points -
"Win a prize for your girl?" the carnie in the beanbag booth calls out to Simon, smiling an oleaginous smile as they pass. He has a beanbag, that he tosses up and down in one hand, the contents running together like pebbles, this soft, concerted movement - that somehow feels - menacing.
[Slaughter] Imogen had opened her mouth to speak - to warn or perhaps, adroitly (bluntly) suggest they move, when Fate moves more quickly - and with a plan far from what she might have chosen. She is smaller than the sixteen year old, and he can always fling his arm around her, her shoulders vibrating slightly under the impact as he forcibly - and then suddenly not so forcibly, after a moment of resistance, she merely moves with him - guides her toward the big tent.
One hand lifts, the one between their bodies, and she jabs a thumb, firmly between the ribs - where sensitive nerves are, but it is the only remark she makes on his particular choice of - illusion.
"Thanks ever so much." She does, at least, keep the sarcasm from her voice.
She's missed much of what's gone on. The girl, the plan, fledgling though it might be - or perhaps it isn't. She watches their surroundings - the Garou and waits for, well, anything. A sign, a hint. An opening.
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] -They push and jostle and Linus claps his trap, letting Roman settle them into a niche of illusion beyond the views and sights of their surroundings. He takes the moment to clap down on ingrained traditions and focus on the task at hand. They were shifting through the crowd and regarding their options quietly, Linus digging his knapsack off one shoulder and thrusting a hand inside hurriedly.
It isn't until they reach the edge of one of the booths, that Linus' attention flicks up, catching the Vendor and his attempt to lure Simon in with the age old carnie talk-up. A moment of distraction that leaves Linus to pull the shard of mirror he kept for moments like these free of the bag and palm it comfortably.
When the next moment to step out of time with the rest of the Group arrives, he flicks his gaze down into the reflection, once more sending his eyes across for a glance.
(Peeking. Gnosis -1 diff. for reflective surface)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 10
[Bone-Grinder] Simon knew what the booths could do. He knew the effect they had upon you once you got started, and it was difficult for him when the challenge was thrown his way. His eyes peeled from the others and he looked back with a deadpan stare that almost implied he was offended the man would even ask. This place was tainted... The very fabric of reality around them had been woven into a kind of spiritual representation of a Carnival which fed upon the baser emotions and desires of it's victims. It wasn't just tainted... it was taint. It was in itself a kind of living twisting corruption of spiritual and physical that likely fed as a collective whole off the sins of it's victims. He would not feed it... He would not take part in adding to its strength.
"What was that you were saying about the Father?"He asks Bone Writer once they're far enough away that no one who might have been listening earlier was listening in. Still he was soft about it."Who was that referencing? The one in the cage or someone else?"He asks curiously.
Linus had mentioned something about a Black Spiral Dancer earlier and if that is the case then that might be the first of their targets. Though likely that was not the "Roots" that the girl or her Werewolf friend were addressing. Certainly it would be in the interest of any dancer to feed a Wyrm Creature, Thing, Entity of this sort... Help it grow in strength.
[Fate] He grunted when jabbed between the ribs, but he kept leading them away, whispering to Imogen as he pretended to kiss her ear and nuzzle.
"There was a True in a silver cage that went past. A girl told Gwen she knows all about our kind and she wants us to save her and the guy in the cage. She's gonna get us in the back of the Freak Show when the coast is clear, so we gotta met her there...."
He stopped in his tracks right before a faded poster and spoke up to Simon.
"Whoa howdy. Look at this Simon. That strong man? This hear post says his name is Franklin. Ya remember Jaba the Hutt in the pot? His name was Franklin."
[Bone Writer] "...It's a religious reference to the Wyrm. The one in the Cage is a bastard. Easier to kill him than...anything...else..."
Distracted, the Godi's features grow slack as his vision is stolen from this world and thrust into another.
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head."So the one in the Cage is the one who referenced the Father? Are you sure that is a reference to the Wyrm and not... A reference to Fenris or someone else?"He asks the man curiously."Any hint we can uncover as to who is behind the Carnival itself would help. I am not going to let this place disappear again without trying to do something more significant."He was speaking softly, loud enough that the man could hear him though he was being deliberate in not letting his voice carry too far.
Roman then addresses him and he shrugs his shoulders."Do you think it is actually franklin?"He asks Roman softly. A tiny hint of a smile on his face as he looks at the poster."Maybe it is a coincidence? Or we could always get our hands on the Emcee again... I think we could get him to talk pretty damn quickly. If we can just get to him."
[Gwen Sullivan] "You know..."
Gwen had been walking not far off from Simon's elbow since they'd exited the back alley of shadows and grease-stink behind the tents and booths and little tin trailers. Roman had his arms about Linus and Dr. Slaughter, had stuck her with the big Shadow Lord as a part of his on-the-spot storyweaving, so she started walking with him and hadn't moved yet. Grudge be damned, she could still play nice if she really had to.
That didn't mean the bite was taken off her words any at all.
"You could just try asking me. I'm just a cub and all? But I'm the gal who held the ten minute long conversation with our in."
[Fate] "How many Franklins do ya think might be associated with this here rodeo? I think maybe, one. I also think it's time to take another turn here and weave our way to that meeting area before we start to argue among ourselves and set off a big ole flare to them that know what to look for. Ya can bet it's more'n one girl with the know how."
He let go of Imogen as soon as he picked the gap and slipped in to it.
[Bone Writer] "A reference to Fenri-"
He turns, eyes a frosted white, like static around the pupil, the heat of Rage skating off Linus' shoulders. A finger raises, aimed in Simon's direction.
"You're not a fucking theurge, remember? Please stop trying to make some level of moronic sense out of the mystical crap and just take my word for it?" His attention returns with a fluttering and abrupt snap of re-focus, head shaking, a pair of fingers at his brow.
"Our umbral escape is shot through. Slaughter can't make that trip and they're near as solid on that side as this, no telling if they'll be able to follow or track us as easily. We need a new out if things go hairy."
[Fate] "I hate to bring this up, but we are going to need Miss Doctor Slaughter if it comes to handling that there silver cage."
He lowered his voice as he started through the gap between booths and picked service ways towards the Freak Show tent.
"Also last time we had to make an escape, it weren't easy, but it happened. That's a bridge we'll have to have some faith in when the crossing comes."
[Slaughter] "I suspect," Imogen says, after having said nothing while the others speak, having barely reacted as Fate had whispered in her ear. "If things are so bad tha' yeh have t'run, and if the Umbra is not available t'yeh, yeh'll ha' little choice but t'fight yer way out, regardless.
"But head fer the trees, fer the creek so no one can get yer smell. Might be the best bet. Other than that, it's fields, and yeh'll stand out like a sore thumb."
[Bone-Grinder] He can't help but smile a little when she speaks up and he turns his head in her direction."What did she say about whom?? I wanna figure out who the players involved are... So we can figure out who we can strike to put this thing to an end. Helping the girl and her friend are their own stories but if we can bring this thing down it will help a lot more people including us."He says this while looking over the poster.
His attention shifts back to Roman."Well let's keep it in mind... I don't know the significance but... If Franklin isn't dead then we've got a bigger problem here than we initially believed."
He then looks back at Bone Writer."Right... Because a whole tribe who calls themselves the Children of a Totem wouldn't dare reference their totem as a father. You know kinda like how we don't call ours Grandfather."He says with a little laugh."I'm not a fucking theurge you're right... But you're also not a Philodox and if we're gonna judge this guy before we even get to him and decide he's gotta die I would think we had considered all possible interpretations before we condemned him to death."Gwen was the only Philodox present and she was a Cub and still learning.
Soon enough they were moving again and Simon kept close to Roman."If we put an end to this place we won't need to worry as much about escape. Find the heart and cut it out... Without the heart the rest of the body will dissipate and die right?"
[Fate] "And the guy in the cage, that Jones? He knows what we don't, so we need his knowledge to get to the root of this."
He nodded to Simon.
"Don'tcha worry none. I got me a feeling that if we don't end this now we might end up roomates with Jones or with our heads on a wall."
[Carousel] The carni keeps his eyes on Simon, tosses up that beanbag again as if he meant to lob it at the other, as if he were capable of reading underneath the skin something written there - Simon's want to win, Simon's need for it - but then the group is moving again, immersing themselves in the whirl of life on the midway, making their way - down the midway, through the booths, past the familiar rides and sideshow attractions. A Tilt-A-Whirl, The House of Horrors. The House of Mirrors. The Arcade, skeeball machines glittering with a sort of terrifying cacaphony of clashing lights, a siren erupting everytime someone tosses a bull's eye.
"Mistress Heshima, Advisor to Kings and Queens! - " calls out another dwarf, standing outside a tent constructed of ratty velvet on an old plastic milkcrate, speaking through a fiberboard megaphone. " - come one, come all!"
---
The House of Freaks is a good ways down the line, and the farther they walk, the farther away the Big Dipper - that rickety coast in the distance - seems. Then, they pass the Ferris Wheel, like a pivot in the center of the carnival, and find themselves abruptly standing before the painted 18-wheeler trailer that contains the House of Freaks. The sideshow tent at the end, stairs leading up to the side, the decking, the ticket booth all seems the same. A poster with a moveable clock says that the next show begins in 15 minutes and a moving crowd lingers, tickets in hand, awaiting entrance to the freak tent.
--
There is a sort of tattered glory to the front facades, the velvet, the gleaming lights that wink on and off, the music, the movement, the laughter. Behind - though - that vintage charm is gone. On the other side of the trailer, a sliding door bisects container, a rough set of wooden steps leading up to it. The rolling doors are closed now, and again the muffled sound of the show is audible through the tent at the trailer. Back here, generators run and garbage is sloughed off thoughtlessly, thanklessly.
It's easy enough to find a place to hide here, and await the girl. Under the body of the trailer, in the mud underneath the stairs. Oil drips, and the metal makes the ambient noise of the carnival echo oddly through space.
--
"Maria" comes after ten minutes, carrying a wide, heavy pallet covered with plastic, dragging an odd-shaped bag behind her. She appears from between a smaller truck and the curved end of an old air-stream trailer, her jaw set, strain evident in her face. At the trailer, she heaves up first the pallet then the bag onto the wooden platform, then climbs the steps, pulling out a mess of jingling keys as she looks around for them, waiting.
[Bone Writer] "Just...stop talking."
A pained sort of expression crosses the Godi's face as the group continues to make their way through the crowds and finally ends at a small section where Roman ducks out of sight briefly.
"We keep coming across a lot of Ifs and Buts about this situation and this place and we keep upping the ante on just what we want to do about it. Shut it down, cut out the Wyrm, talk to Jones and find out what he knows and yet the longer we stick around, the more risk we run of getting caught ourselves."
He gestures, vehemently between the lot of them.
"We've got a Cub and a Fucking kinfolk here with us-" his voice is low but heated at Roman and Simon "-and none of us are packed, you dig?! We're in foreign territory and up against too many questions with a decided lack of escape whether things go south-" A flickering glance at Imogen "-or we end up succeeding and needing to get out quietly."
A heartbeat to let that all hover in the air.
"If we're going to do something? Then it should damn well be to end the immediate threat, set them back to square one and then head out and come back in force with Kora-" A nod at Roman "-and the rest of the Long Watch to tear this place apart."
By the time he's finished they've managed to make their way to visual distance of Maria, who Linus casts a glance and ceases to move forward. He doesn't bother getting within earshot of her while they're discussing this.
[Fate] He was going to have a chat with Kora later if they made it through this, but for now he just looked at Linus before slipping up to the way in, not liking walking in to this without knowing if it was a trap or not. Though sure as they were born, he'd slip through that door when it opened for them.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen had fallen back into silence, a state that was grim and grudging and more firmly so each time she was reminded that she was a liability more than a help. This was just plumb encouraging, she may as well just go hang out at her car for another hour and wait for the gas pump to start back up.
...but no. Even if it was suggested she wouldn't. This was that sense of duty that Alethea was talking about.
So she hangs out, crouched down with her knees jutted out like a gargoyle while waiting for the chubby teenager to re-emerge and lead them in where they needed to go. She listened to the Grown Ups talk, and was among the first to notice when 'Maria' came into view, looking around for them. Without so much as a word to the others waiting in the muck and stink behind the freakshow, she stood up and moved to meet the teen.
It was dangerous to put herself in this mindset, she knew, just in case the tables turned, but she still felt that letter to mom like it was made of granite in her back pocket.
[Slaughter] Imogen crouches on her heels. Though Bone Writer has suggested she might be a liability, it does not seem to cause a reaction - little more than a bland glance his way as he refers to her.
Her forearms rest lightly on her knees, a few tendrils of hair falling into her eyes. She watches as Gwen gets to her feet and strides toward Maria, her gaze intent on the girl, then flicking toward the bag she's dragged.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."We came here... You, Roman, and I... In a Car... With the intention of stopping this carnival before it had the chance to disappear again. So far as I see it the fact we are helping someone else out in the process does not change the original plan whatsoever. If you didn't want to follow through with the original plan when we arrived at this place then you should not have come."He says with a shrug of his shoulders."Whatever the case I'm not even going to fuck with this anymore... Let's just finish this and get the fuck out."
[Carousel] "Hey - " Maria says to Gwen, casting a furtive glance over the shadowy little clearing behind the freak show. There is laughter and music still coming from the tent, and the Ferris Wheel - behind them now - turns 'round and 'round, casting both their faces in a moving array of colors. She's nervous, this girl, the strain of it evident in her eyes, in the gritty way she smiles at Gwen. In the way her hands shake as she pulls out a ring of keys, peers out into the shadows.
" - they're down to the sexy part of the show, right. Everyone else's back in their cells. So, uhm. You go in, and I'll - I'll watch here, and - " Hands shaking as she sorts through the keys on her ring, and finally inserts one after another into the half-dozen locks on the back of teh trailer. " - you know, you can see the Big Dipper from anywhere in the carnival. I heard that if you - if you find it, you can get out there, and they can't - "
The key tumbles the locks. The door opens. "Hurry, okay?" The stink of her fear is palpable, even to their dull human noses.
[Bone Writer] ...He watches, eyes flicking from body to body as they turned and moved, decided. Both hands raise to scrub at his face violently, silently, mouth gaping as if to scream, though no sound emerges. He sucks in a breath, eyes moving back the way they came, as if to memorize the world they were about to leave behind.
A hand sneaks past the buttons of his gray coat, fingers brushing flesh just above the left pectoral. It's a gesture of reassurance, visibly calming him on the surface and through gritted teeth.
He moves forward in the wake of the group, unraveling the scarf from his neck and shoving it forcibly into one of the jacket's side pockets.
"...Fine." Hard edged. And Quieter. "Fine..."
It's as they're moving forward and Maria offers a word that Linus' attention catches on her.
The big dipper
"...The Constellation?" He hooks a thumb up into the sky over his shoulder, gaze narrowing.
[Fate] "The roller coaster."
He whispered and wrinkled his nose with the smell of fear coming off Maria. Part of his brain was screaming it could be a trap and he looked at Imogen to make sure she was with him where he could push her back of need be, even if it meant she shot him. It was to the door and through he went.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Or the ride," she offered to Linus, her voice quiet. She's studying Maria with the same rock-steady stare that she'd been regarding the girl with since she revealed that she could tell Garou for what they were, and furthermore that she would help them out. She watches the key ring, watches fingers fumble over them, and clicked her tongue once against the back of her teeth in a way that was half-scolding, half-apologetic when the door was pulled open and the girl was urging them to hurry in.
"We appreciate your help, but you should understand why we are cautious."
Her hand was extended, palm up, expectantly.
"Either you come in with us, or we get the keys. Does that sound reasonable?"
[Carousel] "No - " the girl says, looking up at the sky, and now that Linus looks the stars here feel strange, shifted. Then, startled, back toward the shadows below. Briefly, a smile ghosts across her features, making her almost pretty. " - the ride?"
Then, it is her turn to point toward the stretch of track visible against the mist in the middle distant.
[Bone Writer] ...And Linus' gaze flicks back over their shoulder to take in the Ride (and the sky, briefly) with a puzzled frown. His grunt is low and soft, mind already pouring over the mechanics of it. Mirror-side like a Caern. Boundary like a Bawn.
"...Stands to reason there's a Gate as well."
But it would have to wait. On the run planning. He curses under his breath and follows Roman and the others inside.
[Carousel] Maria draws in a sharp breath, watching Gwen, then swallows hard and hands over the keys.
They fall in a tumble into the Philodox's hands.
- and they are heavier than they look like they should be.
[Slaughter] She studies Maria, as she draws nearer, as she speaks to the others, as the others speak to her. What she sees draws little by way of reaction beyond a faint crease in her brow, then gone. Whatever it is, she doesn't share it with the others.
She follows them inside, one hand moving back beneath her jacket, then falling free at her side.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Thank you."
The words were more gentle than her eyes had been all night, and Gwen took the keys, judged the weight of them with a curious expression on her face, then concluded with: "Please watch the door," before turning, waiting for Imogen to pull herself up into the trailer, then stepping inside as well.
She wanted to trust the girl, but she couldn't. Without they key ring (and she could only hope the girl didn't have a second one) she couldn't lock them inside once everyone had piled in like the too-trusting dimwits with too-few options that they were.
[Bone-Grinder] Simon enters without further questions. The plan was changing, and he didn't like it at all. They were putting their lives on the line for a relatively minor cause to help some chubby girl and her werewolf boyfriend... One could almost feel the rage rising off him at the thought of this. It was not what he came for. It was not why he was here but if he lacked the backup to stand up and face the threat then he would do what he could.
His eyes shifted about in search of anything of interest. Any sudden movements, anything hidden from the eye. He kept himself as well hidden as possible, or at least tried to keep himself behind anything that might block others views as he searched for signs of anything he might recognize as a danger or a threat or just plain strange.
[Carousel] Before, Roman and Simon saw the Hall of Wonders in all its glory. The lighting was atmospheric, subtle - the glow from the red buttons that turned on the flood lights for each individual cage in a long, straight march down the far too expansive truck-trailer. Tonight, "Maria" has turned on the overhead lights, which blare out, incandescent and ugly, from industrial fixtures on the ceiling of the trailer. Which also seems - larger inside than it did from without.
Without that sense of stage craft - the dark aisle, the small stages flooded with light - the whole place feels diminished, broken and dingy, as sad as it is grotesque.
Each stage is marked with a tattered old sign. A good half of the cages are empty. "THE BEARDED LADY" is not there tonight, still in the side-show tent, just her empty divan, blood red, stained and worn. "THE SNAKE CHARMER" is also (blessedly) absent. Her stage is upholstered in moth-eaten purple silks and brocades, a wooden stool in the far corner.
"THE MERMAID" still swims along in the cold waters of her dark tank. The scent of fishscale, rot, and cold blood close to her tank is enough to make the gorge of even the most jaded begin to rise. Without the lights from inside, the waters look murky with floating filthy, a certain algae film seems to cling to the plexiglass.
When she emerges from those clouded waters, though, to press her alien face against the glass, silent and feral and wrong, it is that much more disturbing.
A pair of twins are next, children, girls, joined at the chest by latex and spirit gum. They are dressed in motheaten tutus and wearing tap shoes, one leaning against the other, picking at the staring out sidelong when they lights come on. Amazing latex that holds them together.
Or maybe at the flap of skin that folds itself over their shared organs.
There's filth on the floor, a kind of ooze. Someone has sloshed through it with a mop, but that has only served to put slashing diagonal lines redistributing the slurry of mud.
Finally, "THE WOLF MAN" is in his silver cage, on his isolated stage. He is sleeping, so it appears, and has this haggard look. His hair is brown, streaked with gray, and his rangey physique has the look of an old athlete gone - not to fat but to ruin of drink and drugs.
[Fate] He nearly jumped out of his skin, infact he flinched back when the Mermaid suddenly pressed against the glass of the tank he happened to be looking in. He remembered her from before and it was that same morbid curiosity that had him looking in again. Swiftly he moved towards that cage he didn't want to touch, snagging some of those mouth eaten purple silks on the way.
"Psst, Jones..."
He hissed as he wrapped the faded silk around his hands.
"Wake up."
[Bone-Grinder] Simon stood quiet and still. The full moon wasn't here to sort through the freaks or who to help and who not to help. He was here to watch over the others... Because in the end it was his job to make certain they get home tonight even if he does not. So he kept his silent vigil over the others. No reason to speak, no reason to do anything other than watch and listen. Should anything go wrong he wanted to be ready to respond.
[Carousel] The man stirs when Fate calls his name, this sort of worm-eaten movement, like a seizing heart. Pushes himself up onto his hands and shakes his greasy hair from his eyes. There's piss on the bottom of the cage, and up close, the stench of it is sharp, ammonia, wrong.
Healthy animals never foul their dens.
- " - fuck," Jones says, this rasping voice, like a block of rough sandpaper drawn across knuckles. The dingy sort of grin he gives reveals that his canine teeth have been torn out and this close, fate can tell that each of his fingers has been lopped off at the last knuckle. Even sitting up and swearing is effort that makes him start to couch on his own breath. " - who the fuck are you?"
[Slaughter] Imogen, too, jerks her head sharply toward the mermaid as she presses her alien face against the glass, her mouth turning down, her nostrils pinching in well-bred disgust. Her hand had slipped beneath her jacket, but when her hand slips back out, it is empty.
Fate hurries to 'Jones', and Imogen eyes move over their surroundings, searching for exit signs, or doors, possibly entry points.
She'll choose a decent vantage point to watch and wait - and if she can, she'll do it where she can hear the conversation between the captured and the Rotagar, but that is secondary.
[Bone Writer] ...Linus pushed his way through the sights they were seeing, maintaining eye contact on the ground or the path before them or the backs of those around him. The 'Freaks' were of much notice and consideration but not concern. More of the Wyrm's depredations given voice and shape in the form of twisted things off the natural path.
He spits in what passes for dirt as they walk beyond the Mermaid and reach the well-lit remains of The Wolf Man.
Linus hand remains settled on the inside of his jacket, slowing to allow Fate and Simon to pull in closer. His own gaze remains firmly entrenched in their surroundings, free hand rising to brush beneath his nose, a disgusted visage peeling over features at the various mingling stenches.
His gaze seems to level on the nearest wall, listening to the distant thrum of the Show happening next door, waiting for the inevitable applause that might signal their time is out.
[Fate] It was all he could do not to wrinkle his nose with the stench or react to the declawed fingers of Jones. Instead he kept his voice to a low whisper and did his best southern charm bit.
"I'm Roman and we done told Maria we'd help get y'all out of here. She says we need to stop things at the root and that y'all would help with that. Ain't nothing I want more than to give ya your chance to strike back at them that done this to ya."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen, too, startled when the 'mermaid' (though that was no motherfucking Ariel) slapped her face up against the glass, revealing herself from the shroud her opaque waters created for her. "Motherf-," she started, voice sharp and startled, and lifted a hand to cover her mouth and nose both as the stink of rotting fish and blood and god-knows what else hits her.
She watches the conjoined twins, idly tugging at whatever it is that connects them, be it authentic flesh or peach-colored rubber, and when the 'WOLFMAN' sign appears she stares intently at the waste of a man laying asleep curled up within the cage that made her back feel like someone was throwing coins down her spinal column.
Dr. Slaughter hangs back, the rest move a bit closer. The Cowboy Kid leans down to be near enough to speak to the Garou/BSD/whatever, Simon moves close enough to reinforce, and Linus makes himself the middleground between the other Garou and the Kinfolk. Gwen choses his side to stand near, one hand over her mouth and nose, the other hand cupping that elbow to keep the arm supported.
She watches, quiet, and learns.
Occasionally, though, she'll glance back to the door they came in from.
[Carousel] "Maria - ?" Jones responds, coughing wetly into his outstretched hand. The only obvious entraces are the door through which they climbed in, a smaller door opposite it, which corresponds to the "main" entrance on the other side, and the swaying curtains at the end of the narrow metal corridor.
He stares Fate in the eye for a half-second, then that wet cough dissolves into a quiet, rough throat full of laughter. "Fuck." Roman can see the man's blood shot eyes scour over him, then lift beyond, tracing out each of the others - Simon and Gwen, Linus and Imogen -
- Imogen, lingering on Imogen, drawn immediately by the pure breeding. " - so she wasn't lying. A whole fucking pack of you." He cuts a look back down the corridor toward the swaying curtains, then shakes his head. The chains secured to his collar clink together with the movement, the gesture "No."
"Just kill me." - he's - half-smiling as he says it, with a growing energy, excited by the prospect of release. " - do it quick and clean. Just fucking kill me - "
[Bone-Grinder] [Per+Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] Linus' hand tears free of the gray coat, the length and image of a black hafted spear spreading from it's place written across his chest, the dedication dancing the tool across his fingertips until the entire nine feet, it's broken-half head dancing dully beneath the light above their heads.
"Gladly." Linus takes a few steps toward The Cage, the spear gripped in hand firmly.
[Bone Writer] (Per 3 + Alert 2.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)
[Slaughter] (perception+alertness!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] "I'm afraid I can't do that, cause we got to stop this from happening to anyone else first. And if ya won't step up and get in the saddle, then we'll have to leave ya in the chute."
He held up a hand to halt Linus, hopefully.
[Carousel] Curtains at the end of the hall are moving. There's a flash of moving light behind them, too, like the swing of a step? Someone's coming, then. Carrying a flashlight? or a lantern. She can almost hear them pausing.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] When he caught movement from the curtains out of the corner of his eye, he made a cutting off motion, flicking his fingers towards the curtain as he hissed.
"Company."
No sooner did he say that than he stepped back out of reach of the cage and reached for Blur though it could be too late.
Blur steath+man diff 8
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP]
[Gwen Sullivan] "Motherfucker."
This was turning into Gwen's new favorite word, and fast. Her voice was hushed, and she reached out to tap anxiously at the center of Linus's back. Tension was rigid through her muscles, and the harsh lighting from above only made her face seem that much more pale.
"Someone's coming, and I think they know we're here already."
[Carousel] "If you kill me," Jones says, mouth peeling back from his broken teeth in a ghastly smile. He's still in that cage, shut tight. " - you stop it happening to fucking me don't you then."
[Fate] He whispered from the dark.
"Or we can leave ya here, can't we?"
[Bone Writer] Linus turned in place, his thoughts, reflexes and actions no where near the realms of stealth or hiding. He'd been caught unawares, Roman's lifting hand given a crude and ugly snarl that didn't manage to make it into a sound. He snapped around as the Ragabash warned them of an incoming and Gwen's tapping finger confirmed it.
A snap of his eyes leveled on Imogen, barer of the only ranged weapon amongst them (Because history and reputation both spoke of the Kin's marksmanship and kill count made on a bullet and trigger) even as that sooty black spear shifted in his grasp and settled, point to the ground beside one foot, haft jutting near straight behind his shoulder blade.
"Push back to the walls..." Through gritted teeth to Gwen. "Don't let anyone or thing behind you 'less it's another one of us."
[Slaughter] She had seen nothing - but the warning of the others is enough - her gun fitting into her hand as she steps back, her footfall silent as she finds somewhere out of sight from the direction of Gwen's attention. She removes the safety of the weapon, and waits.
[Gwen Sullivan] Wolves were creatures of rank and cooperation. When they were pushed together into a group, authority was meant to be decided on, and typically rather quickly. Gwen didn't pick up on a general consensus of who to follow, it seemed to be a rather liberal mishmash of equal ranking people working together, sharing ideas, but with no true leader. Gut instinct, the only real thing that she had to go off of considering her gaping lack of experience, had her seeking a leader.
After seeing someone pull a spear from fucking nowhere and having them give you instructions, it was pretty easy to make your decision on who to pay some mind to.
Flank the walls, he says, and that sounds like a pretty damn good plan to her.
Gwen doesn't scamper or make a fuss to get back from view, she doesn't want her sneakers making a whole lot of noise or her breathing to elevate so that huffing and puffing gives her away. Rather, moves slow and quiet against the wall, tugging her hood secure over her head and pressing the back of her skull to the cool metal of the inside of the trailer and taking a slow, deep breath.
Where the fuck was the light switch?
[Bone Writer] (Charisma 3 + Subterfuge 3. Diff 6. Persuasion.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone-Grinder] "If we're gonna fight let's fucking bring the fight to them... Why wait?"He asks with a snarl, and immediately the beast begins to shift his form to something better suited to War as he begins to rush towards the curtains.Flesh rippling outward as muscles seems o grow spontaneously from his already powerful frame and just as quickly fur begins to sprout from that. Simon was not about to be cornered like a rat. The beast would soon assume his Crinos form with the intention of ripping right through the curtain and tackling their enemies.
Whoever there folks were this was only going to get worse unless the intruders in question were dealt with immediately. In the event this was a trap they were all gonna die anyway... So he might as well make them earn this kill.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] There is always a moment before a fight when everything seems to go still. Garou move so quickly in the fire of rage that they split seconds into impossible slices, not unlike the way humans split the atom.
Each of them has a spare-second to see the world in freeze frame.
Bone-Grinder charges toward the curtains, his claws scrabbling on the cheap carpet runner, blood red, lining the long hallway. Underneath, corrugated metal, the substructure of the tractor trailer in which the "Hall of Wonders" - the "Museum of the Unreal" - is housed. The effluvia of the place is sharp in his nose - shit and piss, the stink of metal, the noisome perfume of slow-putrefaction from the mermaid's tank, old blood, fresh meat, fear and despair and hunger underneath.
The curtains move. He can see the shadow of a body, this brief impression behind tattered, threadbare red velvet.
Gwen presses herself against the metal frame of the trailer, the metal ribs digging into the articulations of her vertebrae. She has this brief glimpse of those fake (?) siamese twins sitting close to each other in the next stage over, a moment of terror on the face of one, while the other seems - blase, unsurprised when an unauthorized visitor erupts into some shape out of nightmares and charges down the corridor.
Imogen trains her weapon on the moving curtains. Levels it, and fixes her gaze there. She has this peripheral sense of the other Garou - Roman with his spear in hand, Gwen pushing back against the wall, Bone-Grinder's spine moving in that organic loping rhythm of a Garou on the hunt.
Linus has Jones in his sights, though he lowers that spear and backs away when there's movement. He has no hope of hiding, and so he does not, flanking Imogen, his spear at the ready. Jones looks - alert, his dilated pupils contracting as he pushes himself more upright, shoving forward against the silver bars to peer down the corridor as Simon streaks past.
And Roman pulls his gift to him, finds the multipartite shadows cast by the sharp array of the overhead lights, drawing back as Simon streaks past, notices a heavier shadow against the curtains just before they are drawn open -
- in one long, ripping movement.
The strongman is there. Seven and a half-feet tall, inhumanly made, as if someone had stuffed all the bulk of a war-formed Garou into a human frame, compacted it until the gravity of that muscle bulk was dense as a guttering star. His features are distorted by the bulk, and he is covered with oil, shirtless, shaved, his bald pate glaring-bright.
He casts a long, hulking shadow over the interior corridor.
Behind him, the EmCee is slight, almost ordinary except for the garish clothes. He's a tall man. Slender, with delicate, long-fingered hands and a certain fastidious grace. It's not the same man that Roman and Simon remember.
For a moment, he looks up as they are looking down the hall at him. Simon is running, ready to bring the war to the circus of freaks, intent on cutting them down before they cut him down, and the EmCee - sniffs, disdainful at this display.
"Freeze - " he says, in this loud, somehow sinuous voice that seems to crackle through the air like the discharge of a lightning bolt. And Simon freezes, mid-stride. Whatever the EmCee did has taken something essential out of his - cost him something, grayed his skin, made him - thin, somehow, like a picture from a signal just at the edge of clarity.
The immediate threat gone, the strongman steps begrudgingly out of the EmCee's way. "Thank you, Franklin," the man says, glancing over at Jones, gathering himself in the cage. " - well, after so long, they finally came for - " but something makes him flash a look back at the others visible, his sallow eyes crawl over Linus, Gwen, intrusive and warm as a sun-warmed reptile, Imogen.
And he smiles, looking back at his captive werewolf in the silver cage.
"They're not yours, are they?" And he laughs to himself, reaches up to plant a hand on the huge shoulder of the strongman. "Look at that, Franklin. We have achieved the impossible, brought two sides in the great war of the wolves together in a moment of peace, serendipity. I don't think it will be lasting, though.
"Do you?"
[Fate] He was hidden for the moment (Blurred) and in that moment of opportunity he reached for Resist Pain (WP). He wasn't sure what anyone else was doing other than Simon who had rushed the curtain and froze with the command to Freeze. And Imogen, somewhere in his brain he knew she would have that gun out. There was Jones, cowering in the cage. So when he thought the Emcee and Franklin (aka the former pink Jaba the Hutt) weren't looking his direction and or stepped pass him, he started to slither off in an attempt to work up behind them.
[Bone Writer] "...Fifteen seconds."
It's all he says. Nothing but eyes and slow breathing. The spear remains at his side and he remains within ten paces of the Silver Cage (crawling skin, seething soul).
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was bothered most by the fact that there was nowhere to go for cover. She didn't like being out in the open like this, exposed, just waiting to see what the people in the hallway would decide to do and laying her fate on the floor to go along with whatever response awaits them.
What emerges first is easily the largest person she has ever seen in her entire life. She stares, head turned so the side of her face is flush with the cool metal of the trailer's interior. Behind him, a person who seems to be the boss, despite the fact that he was wasting and thin, gray and tired. But, despite that, power crackled from him, and this manifested obviously when he halted Simon with a barking, electric command. The effect was supernatural, more than a strong charismatic influence, she knew.
He spoke, Roman had vanished, Imogen was still, and Linus spoke a time frame and nothing more.
Gwen's teeth clicked anxiously on her lip piercing, but aside from that she, too, was motionless.
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]
[Carousel] "Fifteen seconds? - " the EmCee returns, smiling this crawling sort of smile, all the moving, livid grace of a jointed centipede tucked into the frame of his mouth.
His lips are dark, and they have not yet seen his teeth. This is a showman's close-mouthed smile, though he employs it slowly, opens it the way a ship unfurls its colors. Empty hands move in front of this torso - long, thin fingers tipped in well-kept nails. His multicolored suit is tattered brocade, the cuffs crisp against his bony hands.
Snapping one of those cuffs with a crispness that belies his that brief, gray undertone to his pallid skin, the threadbare finery. Makes him smart, somehow, grander and darker than this foul trailer, with its pathetic creations kept on display for the cruel, greedy masses of humanity.
"Make it thirty, my dear young man."
A sidelong sort of look, as he tilts his head, listening.
"Do it for me."
[Slaughter] The stillness of the others might almost make one think they had all been affected by the giant's edict. The kinwoman's gaze is steady on the others as he dissects her - or perhaps, undresses her - with his eyes, but she makes no move.
Linus speaks and the kinwoman flicks a gaze his way, her expression utterly bland, her face a mask. Despite herself, she begins to count down, a muscle moving in her jaw, the only indicator of her tension, or perhaps, her impatience.
As the EmCee speaks, Imogen's eyes fix on Linus - though she is not waiting for him to give an order; instead her intentness is of a different sort. Evaluating.
[Carousel] The strong-man, Franklin seems to fill the space he inhabits, seems to push it beyond its normal boundaries. His skin is tight and shiny, glistening with oil. He watches them all pugnaciously, with this beady eyes that seem like little more than black buttons mounted in bullish, near inhuman face - there's something uncertain about that look, unclear whether or not he should watch them, or the hated, broken werewolf in the silver cage.
[Per + Alertness Dif 6 + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 10)
[Carousel] EmCee: Per + Alertness: Dif 10
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 10)
[Bone Writer] "Fifteen seconds is the length of time left before the Ulfr I left behind puts his quick fists up and starts gunning his way through half your lil' Party favours and carnie retards looking for the Big Spin you got hidden away from everyone's eyes."
He doesn't sneer. He turns away from the EmCee, as if the man weren't of much importance, gaze settling on the Silver Cage and the creature within, a disgusted snarl trickling across his lips.
"...But for now, I hope you'll excuse me. Higher priorities." The spear hefts and Linus takes a couple of steps toward the Cage. The next words are a dangerous hiss.
"Show me your throat, -ikthya."
(Manipulation 2 + Subterfuge 3. -1 Diff for Persuasion. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 9, 10, 10 [WP]
[Carousel] Show me your throat - and the EmCee's crawling smile widens. His chin rises, this sharp, imperious gesture common to kings - of both men and wolves - not the commoners that crawl around the skin, mucking about in the grime and filth. There's something shining about him, underneath, that sort of burnished sense of power in which he is well-seated. He catches a hint of movement against the wall, does not dismiss it, and now Franklin has abandoned his belligerent study of the Spiral in the cage to stare - stupidly, from beneath beetled brows - at the wall. Subtle as a Mac truck, that one.
The EmCee doesn't know their terms, and that moment's display shifts as he grasps the spear-wielder's meaning a moment later. The smile quiets, corners of his elastic mouth drawing downward, but his interesting sharpens, eyes hooding with the proprietary interest of - say it - a slave merchant examining fresh meat, a procurer, examining the merchandise, assessing the fitness of a field hand or a gladiator, a breeder or a whore.
"Please," he says, this bright note in his tone, casting this almost shiveringly fond glance between Jones and Linus and - with a flourish of a gesture - opens the way to the cage for Linus. " - don't let me stop you. I'm happy to give you your every desire. You are here to do a job. A very, very important job. Balance of the world and all that. Your dying goddess.
"Do not let me stop you."
[Carousel] - and in that gleaming silver cage, that ruin of a man turns his head so briefly from the EmCee, the strongman. He is on all fours now, leaning forward, his body filling the front of the cage, his face pressed against the bars. He tilts his head, a hint of his throat, the flash of dark light in his eyes.
A moment's regard.
He's not broken.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
[Fate] It sure looked to him like the skinny guy spotted him and how could he miss ole Jaba staring at him. Infact, just for the heck of it he made a face at ole Jaba just to see if it reacted as he eased along the shadows.
[Slaughter] Imogen's eyes narrow slightly on the EmCee.
"Linus," the kinwoman speaks, "hold a tick, will you?"
Her attention flicks to the smarmy speaker. "Pretty elaborate set up fer yeh to just let him die."
[Slaughter] (Sorry, drop the name)
[Slaughter] Where's Roman?
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 10) Re-rolls: 1
[Gwen Sullivan] It's almost easy to forget that the cub is there, the only sound she makes is that soft tink-tink of teeth on the sterling of her piercing. She watched the man comprised of muscle and piggy black eyes, the man with the voice and gestures that spoke of nothing but hidden power and seething, writhing self-assurance, and how the broken wolf on the other side of the war and silver bars regards Linus when he steps forward promising to kill him.
One final click of bone and enamel on the lip piercing, and she moved away from the wall, her first two steps cautious, pausing to see how the EmCee and Franklin respond, then continuing to stand beside Linus, on the side of him opposite the front of the trailer where the enemy stood. She felt sick to be so close to the cage, like someone left her on a tilt-a-whirl too long.
Imogen spoke, and Gwen looked over to her, briefly, then down to Jones. She murmured, voice too soft to carry far: "Doesn't matter, though, he's supposed to die anyway." And as she says this, she shifts the heavy ring of keys slowly from her pocket and presses it to the outside of Linus's hand, or if that isn't at his side into his hip instead.
[Carousel] - and the EmCee watches this, his smile now a compact thing, concentrated around a kernel of delight. When Imogen speaks he appears - honestly delighted to hear the tone of her voice.
Losing the thread of the shadow of a thing in favor of the pleasure of the moment, which he savors the way an oenophile would the finest wine, ripe and round, all the pleasures of summer's end wrapped in the liquid, ready for the tongue.
"I'll just need," he continues, quiet, sounding now not unlike an accountant at the end of a balance sheet, almost benevolent about it really, the last terms before he will give out the keys. " - a replacement. Formality, that. Nothing that you need concern yourself with my dear. Unless you have something you want like that, to the exclusion of all else. Some war you need to fight, some fault you need to fill."
--
The EmCee is no longer watching Roman. Franklin is, though. He doesn't move, he just stares as Roman inches his way down the wall, those piggy eyes fixed on him, that stupid, raw look on his meat-like face.
[Bone Writer] -Dying Goddess
"Shut it!" Those two words stop Linus dead, the spear snapping around to level it's jagged half-head at the EmCee, a feral cast coming to his youthful features, though he bares no scars or revulsion to make it more fearsome. A Boy with Honest Hate.
"I'm here to do one thing and one thing only and that's deal with this situation as best as possible and right now my best is six tonnes of marching Fire and Wrath wading through your little Carnival here and ripping up the Big Dipper 'til your little Gate's closed. After that, I gave him free reign to do as He pleased. This Fucktard-" His head cants toward Jones, the spear still unwaveringly pointed at the EmCee "-just-" And Then Imogen speaks.
This brings a sharp snap of his head around toward the Kinwoman, gaze narrowed slightly and jaw clamping down hard on the remainder of his retort. His nostrils flare and...there is a hint of it. Rage pluming off shoulders and brow. Crushed, it would seem, under the heel of expedience.
Gwen's presence at his side, almost receives a snap, of hand or words, one would be hard pressed to guess as her presence reveals the jangle of keys, which he turns and stares down at absently. He then plucks it from her, snarl turned to a frown, before nodding at the Cub.
[Fate] Attention was drawn from him, all but piggy eyes, but this was likely to be his best chance and he took it. When the Emcee gave that reaction to Imogen, something inside Roman snapped. By snapping it meant, he launched himself at the Emcee's back, despite Franklin. Snapping to Warform in mid-air.
[Slaughter] The moment Roman launches himself, Imogen snaps up her gun - goddamnit - shifting her attention to Franklin to fire off several rounds.
[Bone Writer] Linus is turning, half-way back to Jones with a sneer crawling his features, when there is a rush of movement and the powerful burn of Rage flooding the air. Linus attention and reaction is vicious; the Keys are thrown hurriedly back at Gwen.
Linus rears, spear sliding effortlessly to the mid-point of his palm even as cloth and flesh shift to Fur and Power. He grunts once, even as he sights, leans and snaps the Spear forward in a single motion, directed at Franklin's over-sized neck and head.
[Gwen Sullivan] Suddenly the world begins to dissolve, the smell of musk and singed hate seeping into the trailer to join the menagerie of stenches that already filled the air. One Crinos, she presumed Roman considering that he had disappeared, appeared from nowhere, launching himself at the pair from their backs. Linus sprung up a few extra feet and his expanding bulk had her side-stepping out of the way.
Imogen leveled her gun, and keys were thrown toward her. She fumbled to catch them, then held them against her chest as she moved back another step, eyes wide and adrenaline surging through her veins.
Well what the fuck do I do now?
[Slaughter] (sneaky attack? sneaky sneaky? pls? kthx!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP]
[Carousel] EmCee:
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Failure at target 10)
[Bone Writer] (Dex + What? +1 diff for no skill))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 5 (Failure at target 7)
[Carousel] Franklin:
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] Claw Emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] Franklin's attention had been where Roman was - and she watches his head turns to follow the war-formed beast as he launches himself at the EmCee. As he does, the kinwoman squeezes the trigger on her weapon, the report echoing and loud in the trailer.
Fifteen.
Her ears begin to ring.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Spear to Franklin's neck. Dex 4 + Ath 1. +2 Diff for Called Shot. -1 for Flank? Diff 7 total. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Str 6 in Crinos + 2 Called Shot + 1 Sux + 1 Spear Damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (two more dice damage for flanking! WOO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] - another hanging moment. The faintest movement of air marks Roman's shift from boy to monster. Franklin watches the whole time, the dumb piglet eyes, the widening mouth - whatever the huge man might have said to warn his master is lost in a choking cough as Imogen levels her weapon, and Linus launches his. There is a bloom of blood and bone from the huge man - and Fate shreds the EmCee from behind, tearing through that tattered finery down to his pale, nearly translucent skin.
"OH - " the EmCee says - mouth open - staggering forward - eyes wide, a drop of blood rolling down from his nose to that snearing mouth.
[Inits!]
[Slaughter] (+9!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Bone Writer] (8+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Carousel] EMCEE: +20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Fate] Init +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Carousel] Franklin: +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Carousel] Jones: +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Gwen Sullivan] [+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Carousel] Order:
EmCee: 25
Fate: 16
Jones: 12
Franklin: 12
Imogen: 11
Linus 11
Gwen: 6
Simon: frozen for one more round!
[Carousel] The startled look remains on the EmCee's face for the sparest moment. Then he stiffens through the spine, blood on his mouth now, turning his snearing lips red. A moment's concentration, a spiritual tug they can feel as he whirls to face Fate.
"Freeze."
[-2 due to wounds.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] WP
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] He shuddered, his entire body trembled from toe to top and sure enough it looked like he was freezing like Simon had. Instead, he reached deep inside and with sheer WP attacked.
1a Claw
1b Bite
1R Claw
[Fate] 1a claw emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Fate] 1b bite emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Failure at target 8)
[Bone Writer] There is an inhuman snarl, that has him rushing forward, digging claws into the ground with a desperate urgency that sends him skidding toward Franklin, a clawed limb reaching out for the scattered Spear, snapping yowls and clacking teeth erupting as Linus tucks in low to the ground.
1) Distract Franklin
Rage 1) Pick up Spear
[Carousel] The EmCee - still smiling, his back raw as hamburger meat, his fucking lungs visible from behind, the cage of his chest and back like a window, muscles torn and shredded from the savaged spine, blood soaking the blood-red brocad of his suit lining - falls. Falls to his knees, his eyes still open, mouth open, choking on a torrent of blood and a swollen tongue, reaches out and - yes - steadies himself on Fate's massive thigh as he falls - practically lowering himself to the floor.
His body is a ruin, no human, not even a Garou could survive such a savaging. He still wheezes, somehow, gasping, like a fish pulled out of water, razor gills flapping.
--
In that silver cage, Jones gathers himself.
[WP: to shift in a silver cage! dif: 10 -2 because he really hates the EmCee]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Carousel] Franklin turns with a terrible roar and launches himself at Fate, pummeling him with those giant fists.
Dex + Brawl
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Slaughter] The kinwoman's attention focuses - dimly she hears the sound of crunching bone and splattering bone as Fate makes quick work of the EmCee.
She allows her gun to strafe, following Franklin as he launches himself at Fate. As the giant's back is turned, she fires four shots.
One, after another, after another.
(Fourteen.)
(dex+firearms-4 for split!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Slaughter] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Thirteen)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 4)
[Slaughter] (damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Twelve)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Eleven)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Changing first action: move and pick up spear.
Rage 1: Change to stab Franklin)
[Gwen Sullivan] Blood, blood, and not much else besides. Roman is an absolute beast, and he tears the EmCee into the kinds of shreds that you see coming out the other end of a meat grinder at the butcher's shop. ...And yet he still breathes. She's staring at this, stunned, while Linus throws himself forward to chase after his spear. Gunshots are loud, especially in here, echoing in her ears, and Jones is morphing and growing much larger in his cage of silver, donning fur and a broil of Rage and frustration to go with it.
Gwen's knuckles are white around the keyring, and she's shivering, uncertain, while this unfurls.
The spear had cut the Franklin beast but had not finished him, the bullets bounced off him like they were made of rubber.
Her eyes cut down to Jones, and she cusses something under her breath before stooping down and fumbling the keys to the visible lock:
"I swear to God, you better want him dead as much as I think."
[Unlock the Cage!]
[Fate] 1r turned to, reaching for the Emcee to spin in an arch at Franklin with the body, using it to beat Franklin with.
[Fate] Claw Frankie boy, roaring.
"Pink Jaba, die!"
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: beating Fate!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Spear Franklin: Dex 4 + Melee 2. Diff 6 - 2 for Rear attack +1 for Changed action. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) [WP]
[Bone Writer] (str 6 + 3 sux + 1 Spear damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soakie soakie soakie!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: 25
Fate: 16 [must spend WP to act]
Franklin: 12
Imogen: 11
Linus: 11
Gwen: 6
Jones: last.
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Per 3 + Alert 2.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (perception+alertness)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness: Detail-Oriented]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Carousel] The EmCee lays unmoving on the ground, with massive wounds nothing in the world could hope to survive.
He's already healing, though. It will take time, maybe day, but the blood on the corrugated metal floor is rolling uphill back into his body.
The curtains behind Roman are moving. Someone's coming from back there. Won't be here for a little while longer. And there's a sort of caution there. This isn't the cavalry charging to the rescue.
"Maria" - has opened the back door, is creeping in down the trailer, peering at them wide-eyed.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Carousel] The Emcee lays unmoving on the ground.
[Fate] Once more it was sheer Willpower that allowed him to move and that movement was....
1a...stomp on Emcee's head
1b....Claw Franklin
1r Claw Franklin
[Fate] 1a Stomp
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: soak stomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Fate] 1b Claw Franklin
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin throws himself furiously at Roman, clearly insensate to pain, flesh scored, torn way from those impossible muscles in strips now, as if he had been flayed alive by the garou.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4 (Failure at target 6)
[Slaughter] Every single bullet hits, but goes no deeper than the cloth the grotesquerie wears.
Her upper lip curls up in an uncharacteristic expression of fury, her teeth gritting hard enough to nearly snap her teeth at the root. Her eyes shut a split second. She breathes in. It's all she has time for.
Her eyes open again and she aims her weapon again, abruptly in a state of forced calm.
She aims at the EmCee and fires, twice, then jerks up her weapon to fire twice more at Franklin.
(Ten.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4) Re-rolls: 2
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: SOOOAK.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Failure at target 8)
[Slaughter] (intell + medicine!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6
[Slaughter] Abruptly, her weapon jerks up switching to Franklin.
"Let it be," she can barely hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears, the beating of her heart -
which, if she were honest, is beating harder than adrenaline can explain -
"Time enough t'deal wi' that after." Even as she spoke, she felt resistance. There is nothing more than Imogen Slaughter would like to do, right this second, than get away from this place.
She fires.
(Nine.)
[Slaughter] (dex+firearms)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 8, 10 (Failure at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] AGAIN!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6 (Failure at target 4)
[Slaughter] (whoops - rolling a second time with the right number of dice. Sorry 'bout that)
[Slaughter] STOP EMBARRASSING ME, KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 9 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: SOAKIES.
[Carousel]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Slaughter] HIT 'IM AGAIN!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 6 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] The Spear and Crinos snap in a tight and low circle, the movement shaken by the brush with adrenaline and Rage even as the shots ring off in the air and the thrum of blows can be heard. Linus jaws ratchet open, even as the momentum carries him back to facing Franklin, bowed as the Godi is.
1) Sweep Franklin.
2) Bite Franklin's neck
(Sweep. Dex 4 + Melee 2. Diff 8 - 2 for Rear attack)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] Action continues to whirl in the trailer, making it seem impossibly cramped and crowded. The key clicks correctly in the lock, and the door to the cage swings open. Gwen had been paying close mind to her surroundings while working the lock, though, she wasn't preoccupied. She saw what occurred with the EmCee, she sensed something to her back, and something to the back of the fray.
Her muscles shivered, sweat was slick along her spine and her chest now.
Inaction was beginning to make her crazy, the Rage and Animal within wanted to move, to join, to flay.
For once she let the pump of hot, primal anger rush through her veins and seep through her mind and limbs alike. Her body broiled, and she shoved her hoodie from her body a millisecond before the rest of her clothes shredded away from her body when it exploded upward, into a body without thumbs or fingers, but instead sporting teeth that felt too large for her mouth and claws that could tear through the metal walls if she so wished.
She snapped a snarl with a toss of her head toward the back of the trailer, toward something/someone perhaps no one else saw, then charged forward-- not toward the battle, but through, to the hallway behind that Franklin and the EmCee had emerged from initially.
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dexterity + Athletics]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 7, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [+WP!!!]
[Fate] Claw Frankling 1 r
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: kick FAte!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7) [WP]
[Fate] per+PU
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Carousel] (actually! he is kicking Linus, since Linus knocked him down. dif is 8 for changing targets)
DAMAGE
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Bite Franklin's neck: Dex 4 + Brawl 1. Diff 5 + 2 Called shot - 2 partial immobilize. -1 for Wounds)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Bone Writer] (str 6 + 1 sux + 2 called shot + 1 bite)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]
[Carousel] Gwen charges forward into the fracas, not into it but beyond it, finding her warform through the sheer itch of rage under her skin. She crashes into the moving curtain, through it, brings the damned thing tear down, past the vampire boy, his heart revealed, atop his sternum, the skin pulled back like a terrible dissection made permanent, through the stink and musk of battle.
Beyond: the antechambers of the freak show tent, an office on the tailgate of the truck with makeshift stairs that open down into the tent proper. The freaks are gathering. The snake-charmer, the bearded lady, the capering dwarfs, a man with an elephant's snout in place of a nose - all of them.
Among the freaks, Roman sees a carni, a low stage hand, an armful of something in his arms, rope for the rigging, ticket for the how, who seems - familiar - somehow. Roman remembers him from his last trip to the carnival. That man - a the scene opens before him - drops his burden with a thud to the ground, glancing up and down the face of the assembled, ten or twenty of them - then looks up at the fight, taking it all in faster than the rest.
And that man, that carni, that lowly stagehand is the EmCee Roman remembers from his first trip to the cursed carnival.
Jones falls from the opened cage, briefly wracked with coughs. There are still shackles on his wrists and ankles, but he was ready to shift to warform in that too small cage. This is nothing. Just a moment to remember how his legs move, his arms move. Just a moment to feel the touch of spirit, twisted though it make be, that makes him whole. Just a moment to find his fire -
- and then he does, headlow, moving in this sort of wild outflow. There's something in the air around him, coruscating, brilliant, he's bathed in the promise of fire, literally, wrists and ankles bulging, the action of shifting breaking his remaining bonds, the silver almost molting on his skin.
Rage and rage alone keeps him upright through that seering pain. Snarling, the -ikthya, the Spiral staggers, breaks into warform rather than shifts, this quivering sort of transformation like a worm-filled heart.
--
He pounces on Franklin as the montrous strongman rages back from death, frenzied, snarling, tears into his neck, tears out his throat with his dull teeth, his missing incisors. And beneath Jones' scored, scoured, blistered, de-clawed paws, Franklin begins to fucking melt into a puddle of flesh colored ooze.
There's this sense of movement among the carnis, though no one take charge until the stagehand does, begins to run.
Jones snarls - "GO - " in the high tongue, snarls "RUN. BEFORE THEY CLAIM YOU TOO. RUN. - " and then he spreads snarls another challenge at the crowd, ready to take them on, broken maw, broken paws, bleeding sulferous blood from his silver-wounds. All of them, standing ready over this - bubbling ooze of flesh that was Franklin, the stink and rot of it, guarding their retreat.
"I WILL TAKE YOU ALL." He snarls at the crowd.
[Fate] He saw what he saw and so many more were coming their way and what did Roman do? He pointed right at the guy with the ropes and yelled.
"That's the guy that was Emcee last time! Best we run, bring this place down! Burn it to the ground!"
[Slaughter] The kinwoman regards Jones, the melting EmCee with an impassive regard.
Fate suggests they run, and Imogen merely casts him a glance, her eyes dark. Her gun clicks as the Glock releases her mostly empty clip, and snaps as she slaps another home, pocketing the remaining bullets.
"C'mon," she says, simply. "I don't think this is goin' to be easy."
Linus has no need to make sure that Imogen is near the front - the kinwoman naturally lets the Garou between her and - anything. They were, after all, better at this than she was. But it won't keep her from firing where she can. Covering their retreat with the only ranged weapon they have.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen didn't so much sail as she did punch her body through the curtain, bringing it down clumsily onto the floor with a clatter. Doing so revealed not just one or two people sneaking their way up the hall, but an entire goddamn crowd of them. Eyes that had gone yellow in this body of a muscle-swollen, battle-ready wolf hopped from body-to-body, and her black lips curled back to snarl, muscles shivering and shaking, hackles standing tall--
RUN BEFORE THEY CLAIM YOU TOO
Her ears switched back, her head jerked back as well, and her eyes jumped to Roman, to Simon, to Imogen, then settled on Linus. She'd glance between him and the crowd, wait for the signal to move, and when it came she would push past the fallen EmCee, the puddle of the muscle man, and the Black Spiral Dancer and the flames that consumed him and spread to all they touched, dodging to carefully avoid contact with the unleashed vengeance that was Jones.
She would retreat as told, and try not to think of the chubby teen that had helped them out and not feel guilty about leaving her behind.
[Bone Writer] "I'll deal with that."
It's a quiet reassurance and the only thing Linus offers to Roman by way of answer. The group begins to gather and with a final wince and a pluck of his spear, shadowed into the flesh once more, Linus moves into the line-up on it's way back to normalcy.
[Carousel] "Maria" stands in the entranceway half-way down the trailer through which they slipped. Staring, wide-eyed. She turns to the first person who begins to retreat and says, quiet, urgent, sharp with fear -
"C'mon, hurry. Hurry. Everyone heard that." Urgent. "We have got to - "
There's already movement now, they are running and the freak are moving, now like an army but like a crowd. Someone shrieks and something dark, with razor-black wings moves against the ceiling of the trailer. The stagehand to whom Roman points has grabbed a makeshift weapon and and advances on the battle ahead of the mob, running with a single-minded purpose.
Not after them, but after the brutalized corpse of the EmCee.
"C'mon," says Maria, nearly crying now. "COME ON - " and then she's hustling them out, down the stairs in the back, and they cannot see the big dipper, they are immediately lost in a warren of tents and airstreams, fifth-wheel campers and pop-ups, creepy, abandoned ice cream trucks and strange pick-ups full of cages and piles of filth and foul-smelling stages of garbage.
The ordinary pleasures of the midway are not the only pleasures offered here. They pass gambling tents and brothel trailers, other, stranger attractions.
Whatever you want, the EmCee said, we have - .
If they trust her, the girl guides them through the backtents with practiced ease. There are encounters. Imogen counts more bullets. Roman lashes out with teeth, though he's flagging, not physically but spiritually, the place is tugging on his failing will. Linus with his spear, and Gwen Sullivan, who has no Name yet, with her fists, with her claws. Mostly they run.
They find refuge, briefly, in the tent of a fortune teller. The woman is still and old, and she gives Maria a sharp look at the bedraggled group, "These are the ones?"
There's movement outside, a sort of living chaos to which the fortune teller and the girl are attuned, that the Garou and Imogen feel only dimly. That chaos tugs more on Roman's awareness, on Simon's awareness, than the rest of them, but all is through a glass, darkly.
The fortune teller shelters them for ten minutes, makes herself a cup of tea and tells them that she would offer them -
- but, but. Sometimes it is best not to partake of even the simplest pleasures in a place like this. Her smile, as she says this, is gentle, bittersweet.
Maria is sharp with fear, eager to move when she hears shouts outside, but the fortune teller, who gives her name as Sarah, shakes her head, keeps her from leaving. "This tent is mine, girl. They cannot come here. You know the rules." - and, then, a moment later. With a look back at Maria then, a hard-edged sort of look, though quiet this. "Jones is dead. Jones is free."
"I think we have a new EmCee." Then, a heartbeat later. "The way is clear. Go. Take the old path."
--
And they go, find the gate underneath the Big Dipper through the maze. One minute it seemed impossible far away, and the next they are underneath it, the field across the way beckoning, the creek, the bend, the -
- relief, of the world around them. None of the carnis cross over.
Not even "Maria," though she ran with them the whole way. The place would not let her go.
And above the outline of the tents and the attractions, the roller coaster runs, and the gleaming, multicolored ferris wheel spins and spins.
[Carousel] Gwen leaves with 3 agg. She had the pleasure of healing bashing and lethal along the way.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] They were rattled when they broke free of the Carnival and if Linus thought the ride in was hairy, he was going to love having the wounded garou drive him back to town.
The address was not Chicago, this time. It was not Evanston or Gary, or anywhere close to the city he now calls home. Frasher's Bottom, Illinois! and two nights only. Still, there was something about it that struck him as - compelling, insistent, important.
The flyer was folded in two, stuck underneath the tire of a big red Ford double-parked in front of a long-abandoned construction site. The truck pulled away leaving the impression of tire tracks on the white paper, the pebbles in the matrix of the asphalt, and he would not have noticed it, except that he was watching the truck pull away when the wind blew by and blew the flyer open, and he remembered that, the promise of it.
All the fun of the unfair.
[Carousel] Roman found a flyer this morning, a flyer that pulled on a thread of memory sunk into his flesh. Come one, it said, come all. Come to the unfair.
The address was not Chicago, this time. It was not Evanston or Gary, or anywhere close to the city he now calls home. Frasher's Bottom, Illinois! and two nights only. Still, there was something about it that struck him as - compelling, insistent, important.
The flyer was folded in two, stuck underneath the tire of a big red Ford double-parked in front of a long-abandoned construction site. The truck pulled away leaving the impression of tire tracks on the white paper, the pebbles in the matrix of the asphalt, and he would not have noticed it, except that he was watching the truck pull away when the wind blew by and blew the flyer open, and he remembered that, the promise of it.
All the fun of the unfair.
[Fate] He'd gone and picked up that flyer and as soon as he read it, a chill raced up his spine. It was back to the Church he'd gone with it because well, he would leave word before he took off with Sparrow's car. After all, Sparrow seldom drove the darned Honda and he did have a legal driver's license, for Kansas.
[Bone Writer] The Car wheeled and dealed it's way through the streets with Roman at the wheel. He couldn't help but think that the 16 year old didn't drive very often. Maybe it was this or simply a vague sense of nervousness that had Linus gripping the dashboard or the seat or the headrest in frantic urgency as the Saturday evening Traffic leapt out infront of Roman on any number of occasions. Honking and hooting pedestrians flared to life and Linus did no few times, shout out a heated
"Outta the way you Lush! Major lane! MAJOR LANE!"
Now the question obviously came to what Linus was doing in the car. To which the answer had been-
"...Kor 'n Trent are spending quality time. Have no idea where Sparrow is so it's just you 'n me tonight bud. Need to paint the town red or take in some sights-...'scuse me a sec...Hey Sweetheart! Love the Drive by View! Spectacular! Yeah? Call Me?! We Can Do Lunch! Woo! See that? Weekends, man. All the pretty comes out in spades with high calves and as little as the weather'll let 'em get away with. Gaia bless these Indian summers, I tell yo- CAT!"
Frantic pointing and clinging were the norm, no matter the safety concerns of the young Ragabash.
[Carousel] Frasher's Bottom, Illinois is a small farm town outside the ring of Chicago development, south, bisected by old US Route 75, a near straight-shot to Springfield. The town proper is dead or dying, one square mile of clapboard houses, straight, plainly made churches - Catholic and Baptist predominate - and old brick storefronts. Once upon a time, Main Street was full on a Saturday night. A double feature at the small theater, maybe, followed by a treat at the creamery. There was a haberdasher and a cobbler and a pair of competing dress shops, three or four farm supply companies, the offices of the local co-op, the regional grain elevator that stood just on the other side of the railroad tracks.
Now most of those buildings are empty, and Saturday nights are ghostlike. Folks have to drive thirty-miles to Wal-Mart for their groceries, no matter that they are surrounded on all sides by corn fields.
There are a pair of recent additions, though. South of town, a Tractor Supply Company has been built, the big box store is carved out of some farmer's land, with a huge asphalt parking lot and everything the gentleman farmer could need, from overalls to seed, from pesticides to fungicides to huge tractors that guzzle diesel and insulate the farmer from the land.
North of town, the regional high school sprawls over a ten acre campus nestled in a lazy oxbow bend of a tributary of the Illinois that is charitably called a River by the locals. Outsiders might consider it a creek. The school itself is a squat brick building constructed in the 1990s, expanded once since then, with a big parking lot, and a well-constructed football stadium behind, closer to the river. On all sides, practice fields flanked by a windbreak of fast-growing evergreens are flanked by more farmer's fields.
[Carousel] Gwen was sent on a long, pointless errand for a particular gasket that another dealership in Springfield, Illinois had in stock today. There's construction on the interstate, though, the promise of a massive back up outside Chicago. Her GPS plotted a more direct is perhaps less speedy route through farm country - acre after acre, mile after mile - of flat land, the last crop of hay ripe in the fields, the odd pumpkin patch, the occasional promise of a CORN MAZE or HAUNTED FIELD or HAY RIDES - but mostly mile after mile of desiccated corn stalks waiting to be plowed under.
There's something mesmerizing about two-lane roads, though. This rhythm-of-place as mile after mile disappears beneath your wheels. Close to dusk, the lights of a town glowing in the distance against the horizon - Gwen realizes that she is almost out of gas.
The turn by turn doesn't work properly anymore. If she has an iPhone, its promises are dead now. Point it in any direction, and all it sees are shadows against the dust-dry fields. There's such sameness around her that it is difficult to pinpoint where she might be along that long, straight shot up the map even if she conjures it up in her mind.
She tries all the tricks, squeezes the last few drops out of the nearly empty tank, hoping that those lights in the dark horizon mean a town and a town means a gas station, cursing herself for not filling up before leaving Springfield. Then, lucky girl, an old fashioned-red TEXACO sign appears on the horizon and she coasts into the station on fumes, sheer fumes.
Finds the place locked up tight, with a sign that says, "DINNER. BACK IN TWO HOURS." hand written beside a clock posted in the window.
Beside the sign, there's a flyer.
Two nights only. Come to the unfair.
[Fate] He was trying to figure Linus out while trying not to run over someone or get hit himself.
"Sparrow is gonna kill me if I bang up her car again."
He swerved and blew the horn. Once they got outside town it wouldn't be so bad. Once they got outside Chicago he would see the fields again, breathe in the autumn air and his grip on the steering wheel would become relaxed as would his entire body. And a wave of homesickness would wash out of him that would work it's way all the way back through the Pack Bond.
"Anyway, we went to see the freak show. Lukas was there and Simon and a couple of Kin. And everything was really a trap. Seems what they were looking for was to catch themselves a Garou. They wanted a girl, but weren't no girls with us that night. There in one of the exhibits was this vampire boy, it was a real freak show. And in a big ole kettle was this thing what looked like a pink Jaba the Hutt. Only his name was Franklin. And we had us a big ole fight with that pink Franklin and his brother the Barker."
"Anyway as I was saying. Back in spring there was this here carnival that blew in to town for one night? Weird carnival as far as carnivals go. This one was not your regular freak show.
[Fate] He shook the flyer at Linus.
"Here read this. This is where we are going tonight, cause I know as sure as I was born, this is the same bunch. We gotta be careful we don't get trapped in there before it blows out of town again. And ya gotta watch out for acid, cause we all done got burned."
He was rattling on.
"I probably should of told Miss Kora, she's gonna be right pissed I done picked up her little brother and took him out of town like this. Though tell ya what, we'll get her some pink cotton candy to make up for it."
[Bone Writer] Roman's entire spiel is done with the young lad's eyes out the windshield keeping an eye on things as the City is left behind for straight, smooth highway. Nothing terribly unpleasant or disastrous available on such a smooth straight course, but he seems distracted by past memories. Distant echoes of a long lost concern.
Probably the reason he doesn't catch the full on 'WTF' face Linus has at the recounting of the place they are currently going to (re)investigate. Slack jawed, brow perked, eyes a little paranoid-wild and a
"You're kidding...right?"
To top it all off.
"We talkin' like fish boys and bubble girls and horse eating Leprechaun type freak show then? 'Cause I tell you, if there's a bearded lady I'm gettin' her autograph before we have to kak her." One arm dangles out the open passenger window, body slouched in the shotgun seat so his knees rest on the dashboard. A knapsack is tucked in the backseat, lumpy and fullsome. Everything the Godi apparently needed.
"Don't worry about Kora or me. I'll tell her I forced you, all Fenrir eager to get me some kills or some stupidity." He plucks the flyer up, perusing the details and specifics as they continue the drive out into the small Town, overhead lights growing fewer and farther between as the various manufacturing businesses leap up on the left and right hand side. Steadily, surely, the Town of Frasher's Bottom creeps into the windshield horizon.
"'sides, Kora wants me to do some run around with you guys to get your side of things and show you I'm good by my own word as much as hers. Can't really join a pack without some sense of comfort between folks afterall...Watch the turn off-" He points down a sign off the freeway leading into Frasher's Bottom.
"Acid. Freaks. Trapped...? What do you mean? Like, pit falls and snares and shit? Or we talking more voodoo level?"
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwendolyn, baby, wanna do your grand ole' dad a favor?
What do you need?
Well, there's a part that came in in Springfield that a customer ordered, you wanna go pick that up for me?
Why can't you?
It's date night! I'm gonna get--
Okay! Okay, I'm going.
So Gwen had taken her mother's car, a Honda CR-V with a GPS mounted above the center console. She'd been instructed to take the scenic route to avoid construction, and while it wasn't exactly a school night and she didn't really have a curfew, she was supposed to be meeting Vince at a house party around eleven o' clock or so, so she wanted to make this trip quick and painless and make it to her 'prior engagement' before Vince Odewall, got bored and wandered off, as he was apt to do.
Out here, though, she was more focused on watching the sides of the road for deer than she was on watching the gas gauge, and before long she found the car would struggle to get up hills, realized too late that the gas light had been on for a while. The town glowed dimly up ahead, and she thought it was a miracle of luck and mercy that the vehicle made it into the gas station, barely managing the slope into the parking lot. She rolled to a stop at a pump to find that it was pre-pay only, and that the station was completely locked down and blacked out.
BACK IN TWO HOURS, it promised, and she scoffed and scowled and dug into her pocket for a simple flip phone (she didn't waste money on the iPhone, finding it pretentious and overpriced) and dialed a number from memory (because some people still did that). As she spoke into the phone, she stared at the flyer.
"Vince, I'll have to grab you another day. I'm stuck out in the podunk middle of nowhere, out of gas, and have to wait for a couple hours. Just... hang onto it, alright? I'll see you tomorrow night, and if not then at school. Uh huh. Yeah. Peace, pal."
The flyer was examined for a few more seconds before she peeled it from the window, glanced up the street, then started marching up the street toward the sounds of loud, obnoxious noise and the sight of bright lights swishing back and forth over the clouds in the sky, demanding attention and luring in idle bodies.
[Fate] "It's all true, tell him Simon."
He spoke over his shoulder to the big ole muscled guy in the back.
"Tell him about the carnival and all the stuffed animals ya won. Tell him about the freak show and Jaba's pink brother."
He looked over his shoulder a second causing the car to weave back and forth.
[Bone-Grinder] He smiles."I love those fuckin' stuffed animals... Earned each and every one and I woulda gotten laid had it not been for you fuckups distracting me and making me feel bad for you."He says this with a little laugh."Hey didn't you like jump into the boiling pot of slimy goo man or something? Or was that someone else?"
"I really didn't care too much about the Carnival one way or another. But I really fucking hated that MC. He kept looking at me and talking in that creepy obnoxious fucking voice. I really could care less if he's good or evil... I'm gonna fuckin' kill that dude!"
[Bone Writer] "LamppostlamppostLampPostLAMPPOST!"
[Carousel] Way out here you can see the stars. They shine with a particular, luminous sort of grace. The floodlights, the security lights that mark each inhabited outpost, each still-cared for farmstead out at night seem to recede in the darkness, and the concentrated lights of the towns shines against the horizon, which seems - on those long, lonely two-lane roads that bisect rural Illinois -
The town is nearly deserted. There's a big, handmade banner across Main Street that announces that it is Tucker County Consolidated Homecoming tonight, and a handful of homemade signs - painted plywood - cheer on the Bears. Dusk falls across the sky, a wound in the west, shadows in the east, threads of smoke curling like some half-forgotten memory. As the sun sets, though - colorful spread out over the high school parking lot, the practice fields. The delicate joints of the Spider and the metal curve of the Ferris wheel stand out against the sky.
Light and noise - the wheezy organ music of an antique carousel, the staccato calls of barkers and carnis hawking their games, promising riches - or at least giant stuffed animals - to whoever is manly enough to make three baskets in a row, or knock down a pyramid of milk jugs with a softball, or swing a sledge hammer. The scent of funnel cakes, deep fried, and the sweet nothingness of cotton candy - molten sugar - waft through the air. The carnival covers most of the parking lot and the nearby practice fields, so locals have parked their pickups haphazardly up and down the road, turned off on the shoulder, in the ditches.
--
Gwen's Texaco is the sort of place with two gas pumps that have to be reset manually from the interior of the locked storefront. There's no credit card slots, and the oily interior smells of rubber tires and smoked oil. A wheezing cooler glows blue-red, the Pepsi sign over it illuminated in the dark. Two hours.
Long time to wait.
She can see the lights, though, of the fair up the road. She can hear the music, smell the ribs, see the Ferris wheel now, against the sky. It's half a mile to the high school, maybe less. Distance means different things out here. It's close, though.
[Fate] He swerved, jerking the car at the last moment.
"No I didn't climb in the pot, I pushed the danged thing over!"
He never cursed, the worse he got was Danged.
"Besides, ya don't want to sleep with nothing at a Carnie, ain't no one ever told ya that?"
[Bone Writer] The Car leaps into an available spot, that consists of little more than the bragging room between two muscle trucks, giving each other a comfortable amount of ego buffer. Sparrow's dinky honda tucks in neatly, slightly off centre as to give each of the Boys a chance to squeeze their way out. Linus reaches in back to pluck up his knap sack and goes climbing out the window, onto the hood of the Large suspension-thick El Camino parked on the passenger side.
Then slides down with quasi-grace, to land infront of the behemoth, looking back to watch the others.
"So this Carnival. You guys inspect the other side at all while you were here? Maybe find some feedback spots or seeds?"
[Gwen Sullivan] The walk wasn't too bad, Gwen had been on the track team a few times before (but didn't try out this year, what with her new extracurricular being fighting an underground war against monsters and creatures too nightmarish for people to even imagine) and was a fine distance runner, but there was no need to run right now. So she strolled instead, taking her leisurely time to get up the road, sticking to the sidewalk just in case a car drove by, though she hadn't seen much traffic since she made it into the town limits.
Some handful of minutes later, she was stepping up over a curb and standing before the carnival. She looked at the rides, at all the booths, skimming her gaze across the entire display before she bothered hunting for a ticket booth. No sense in spending her money if it was all going to suck.
She didn't look the small town sort, sticking out like a bit of a sore thumb amongst locals but blending in fine with the kind of people you'd expect to be attracted to a carnival like this. Her hair was dyed a brilliant red with streaks of bumblebee yellow cutting through the underside, visible more predominantly by the fact that she had it pulled back into a ponytail. This revealed the gauges in her ears and the heavy spirals that she looped through them. Her lower lip was pierced along with a medusa piercing in her upper lip, one right on top of the other. Her jeans were typically, as were her sneakers, and her hoodie was snug-fitting and zipped up, with an advertisement for some largely unheard of band on the back.
"Huh," she says finally, and walks in deeper.
[Bone-Grinder] He laughs softly and shrugs a little"Strange I haven't bumped into that Iona chick since... Oh well not like it's a big deal. I think it's against the rules anyway or some such shit."He adds with another little laugh. Simon does swear, like a "motherfuckin' sailor" it's all part of his charm. He was young, crude and did not so much as hide the fact that he pretty much only thought about two things.
"Do I look like a fuckin' theurge to you?"He asks Bone Writer with a curious tone."Not my job and sure as fuck not my place to go prancing around askin a swarm of banes questions. I prefer not to jump into the umbra when I know I'm in a Wyrm den thingy on account of the millions of banes on the other side just achin' to grab my corpse and rape and shit on it. Not really my thing ya know?"He asks with a little laugh as he settles back.
"I'm an Ahroun I make things that are alive not alive... Or in the case of things that are not alive but still walking I make them not walk. It's a simple existence and I have grown rather fond of it. The good life I like to call it... A full moon's live is very black and white in some respects. You're either fuckin' something or you're killin' it and everything else is for others to sort out."
[Fate] "Huh? What?"
He was surprised with Linus' question, then he added when Simon chimed in.
"Yeah what he said. We were a bit busy and then it was gone. Course it weren't never really fully here. Ain't everyone that finds it near as I can figure."
"Speak of the devil, this here looks like the same Carnival alright. Name matches, it's good as the same to me."
He waited till everyone was out, made sure the windows were closed and locked the car up tight as a button. It was night, he wore his evening Stetson, making sure it was tipped just right on his brow. He hitched his breeches up and started looking for a way in other than the main entrance.
"This is it fella's, let's go make a ruckus."
[Bone Writer] The Godi turns to regard The Ahroun Shadowlord with a bland, even deadpan stare.
"Your threats need improvement. Remind me to do the trash talking if we run into a spiral or something. Wouldn't want you pointing out how Dead it's going to be when you Make it that way." He clucks his tongue and turns to regard the flare of carnival life that makes up the horizon over the various cars parked with such sporadic chaos. He makes forward a bit, weaving through the lanes and spaces created by the labyrinth of automobiles, eyes delving and scanning their surroundings with something akin to discomfort.
"I hate clowns. Creepy fuckers better keep to themselves." He steps into place alongside Roman, gaze remaining actively searching. The Godi's senses were more primed for telltale signs of disturbance and heightened clarity; the connection between the physical and the spiritual that makes some moments in the Material World they found themselves in, surreal and strangely out of place (A Gangbanger standing over a fresh corpse, still pumping rounds into the body. A child staring quietly at fresh colours in the sky that aren't really there).
"Just remember the cotton candy for Kor."
[Fate] "Ya know, last time we were here I had cotton candy. It weren't so good and I guess I'm lucky I didn't end up with worms. Ever had worms? Ain't such a pleasant thing."
They probably made an odd looking bunch but one thing was for certain. Out here he didn't stand out so much with his Wranglers, boots and Stetson.
[Carousel] There is a loose sort of fence around the place. The carnis pulled up their trucks and their trailers the way settlers might have on the prairie, with their wagons, headed west - a loose sort of fort. Those were conestogas, though, and these are airstreams, gleaming chrome, sleakly bullet shaped. Around the perimeter, the music of the carousel - in that breathy three-quarter time that makes one want to waltz - in drowned by the constant drone of generators. Kerosene tanks orange extensions cords cut through the muddy maze. Where the trailers have not been pulled up, the carnis have erected crowd-control fences, flimsy metal things set and filled with water or sand.
Admission is free tonight. Locals walk easily in and out of the clown's mouth near the front gate, carrying cones of roasted candied almonds or paper trays of nachos. Roman and Simon remember that structure well - the way the lights behind the structure seem to illuminate the translucent eyes, the way you walk through the clown's mouth, underneath a sextet of grotesquely pointed teeth, uncaring. The thing seems to leer, its molded face all lines framing the fanged mouth through which one walks.
--
Gwen walks through, feels this faint sort of - pop in her ears, the kind of adjustment one's body makes to changing elevation, though the land is as flat inside as it is outside. The midway teams with people, country folk in boots and hats, high school kids, the football players - or their girlfriends - wearing jerseys on homecoming night. The air is crisp, apple weather. And there are apples for say - candied apples from one booth, caramel from another, all the usual fair favorites. Up and down the aisles she goes, checking out the rides - from the mundane Ferris wheel and Spider, from the Whip to the bumper cars, to that wheezy carousel it seems as if she might have heard for miles.
There are games, too. The duck pond. Test your strength. There are milk jugs one knocks over, and others one throws quarters into. There are basketball hoops and sharpshooter contests.
- Step up! Step up! - is the near constant refrain.
The place feels larger inside that it did from without. More expansive. There's even - now she sees it, though she hadn't before - a wooden rollercoaster outlined against the dusk sky. It seems - far away, a rickety thing, almost skeletal, defined against the shadows.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders and simply grins at Bone Writer."Ain't gonna be no dancers here. Not likely at all... Maybe some fomori and banes but I doubt we'll see too many dancers. I wouldn't advise too much shit talking in a fight asshat... That kinda shit gets people killed. Do your shit talkin' after shits dead and you're pissing on its corpse."He says with a little grin before popping the door open and sliding out of the Car.
"Yep this looks like the place... I can't wait to see the look on that clowns fat fucking face when he sees us."He says this with a brilliant little glimmer in his eye."Whatever the case lets not go in using a token or anything... Lets just find who we needs to find and go in the back door to do it."He says with a nod of his head."I don't wanna get trapped in one of those rooms where the walls slowly close in on ya or something."
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness: Detail-Oriented Spec.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Carousel] There is a girl half-hidden behind the skeeball tent watching Gwen. She's - a teenager, not tall, a big chubby, with ratty brown hair, dressed in army green cargo pants and a black t-shirt. There's something in her hands, but a sort of animal sharpness to the way she watches Gwen.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] "I don't want to end up in the stew pot or being Franklin's new best buddy. Infact, I hope Franklin is so dead and gone that they had to find a new pot to start over with."
He held in a shudder with the thought of how Franklin might be back in that pot just a bubbling away. And he was looking for a way in other than through the Clown mouth.
"I don't like going through that mouth y'all, it's like being swallowed only asking for it."
[Bone Writer] "...You two have some major issues to look into at...some...point..."
He stares at the Clown's mouth as they approach, mouth going slightly slack while staring up at it alongside Simon and Roman.
"Who the Fuck Designs these things anyway?! Stephen King?! Fuck off!"
[Fate] "Oh that done scared him, Linus. Tell him again, I think I saw the big clown face shiver."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen had two hours to kill, and with an unexpected carnival to burn time away in just cropping up out in the middle of nowhere she put herself in a mood to be amused. So she'd have a funnel cake, try and win a goldfish and test what Alethea had mentioned to her about animals acting weird around her now, maybe ride the Gravitron if they had one on the premise, even if it would probably get her sick.
Upon walking through the front gate, she paused and pulled out her phone, leaning back enough to take a picture, grinning with utter bemusement shining on her pierced face. She paused to send it as a picture message to Vince, he'd get a kick out of showing it to some kid tripping balls on the latest hallucinogen and listening to them squeal to take it away. Her teeth clicked idly on the metal protruding from her lower lip, her phone was tucked away into her pants pocket, and she continued forward.
Her ears popped as though she just drove down a steep hill, and she lifted a hand to rub her ear with her palm, and continued forward, not paying much mind to the sensation at all. She noted the skeleton of a roller coaster in the background, spotted a 'Test Your Strength' game, grinned to herself, and started walking forward only to pause again.
Fine hairs prickled at the back of her neck, and incredibly keen (though plainly colored) eyes went slightly out of focus, studying the shape that appeared out the corner of them in the shadows. She knew looking directly into the dark, for some reason, blurred the dark into nothingness, but indirect vision brought details to the surface.
Someone holding something, average looking, chubby, a teenager. She could easily be a student here at the high school. The only problem with that, though, was the fact that her eyes felt more like those of one of the lions in Ghost in the Darkness than those of a half-stoned teenager hanging out behind the scenes at a carnival.
So Gwen straightened up some, took a breath, and turned to idle a few feet away from a booth. Here she pretended to watch a couple give too much money to the vendor while the young man in the lettermen jacket tried to win an oversized stuffed seal for his girlfriend/date/lay-for-the-night. In truth, though, she was paying keen mind to the suspicious gal that seemed to be just as keenly interested in her.
[Fate] per
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Bone Writer] "...And I'm right sure that Podunk Cowboy get-up you got goin' is makin' him wet a big one, Eastwood."
He sniffs, a hand rising to wipe under his nose before spitting off to one side.
"Shit here is thin." His voice loses some of the mirthful jest the three seem comfortable sharing, jaw skewing off to one side as his gaze travels the length of the Mouth for a moment. "Two sides of the mirror, this and the other, are a lot closer here. Feels like..." His gaze narrows, turning to look back the way they had come. A semblance of darkness, closed out, boundary shadowing the 'parking lot' and the cars. The brilliance of the light making them non-descript and inconspicuous.
"...Feels almost like we're at a bawn but..." He turns back to the Clown's mouth "-It ain't a Caern. Ain't a Hive. Something's off."
He blinks a moment then scowls.
"I fucking hate clowns."
[Fate] alert
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] The three musketeers are outside, staring at the clown's mouth. Both Roman and Simon walked through it once before, paid their way. Now Roman studies the narrow metal barriers surrounding the perimeter, the closely parked airstreams, the fifth wheel trailers pulled tight to keep straingers out.
Inside, among the booths, Gwen sees not just the booths, but strange, old fashioned posters, antique-looking things that strike her on first glance as kitsch, utter kitsch, even charming in their way. The Bearded Lady. The Mermaid.
Vampire Boy.
Wolfman.
They seem like set-dressings, really - backgrounded against the brilliant lights of the carnival, mawkish allusions to some antiqued past. There are other posters, too: for the Big Dipper. The House of Mirrors.
The House of Horrors.
- and snow cones. "Buy them!" the poster says, over an illustration of a man in a Good Humor-style uniform and cap and a too-white smile, serving one to a small boy in overalls. "They're great!"
Catchy slogan, that.
While the letterman works to win the seal - with the sort of feverish intensity that a boy like that would usually reserve only for getting laid or getting a touchdown, growing more and more - frustrated with every failure - Gwen watches the girl watching her, discretely. The girl, the kid, has a utility belt around her waist, sagging with tools, and STAFF is imprinted on the back of her longsleeved tee. A handful of trashbags are looked through her belt, but mostly she's watching. Locals, kids and adults, chattering children, more - cut between them, up and down the muddy aisle, and the girl busies herself briefly with the trash, pulling out a huge bag from a metal container, replacing it with another. Round cheeks, dark eyes, a pale complexion, half-gloves on her hands, the sort that leave the fingers free.
Indecision is written across her face. Once, one of the barkers walks by - a tall man dressed in a pinstripped suit with the exagerrated tails of a comic's tuxedo - and she ducks her head, busying herself at her work. When Gwen looks back, the girl has disappeared behind the structure of the bathrooms, just moved away.
---
The clown's mouth isn't the only way in. Though at first Roman thinks they have the place locked up tight, a second look tells him how easily those barriers can be crossed. They are shoulder height on Simon, taller on Roman, but they are lashed together with twine and chain, an improvised fence, easily crossed away from the main entrance, out of view of the road if they want, among the warren of trailers of the carnival folk.
[Fate] "Come on."
He nudged the others and lead them down the row of Streamliners, way down the row till he found just the right place to climb over.
"We go without paying and tipping them off right away. Someone give me a foot up."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's mouth pressed into a thin line of what could be irritation, confusion, or displeasure when her view is cut off by a man in pinstripes and coattails, and then the girl is suddenly gone. She looked meek, like she was torn between doing something disobedient and bad and just keeping her head low and deciding not to. Again, she recalled conversations with Alethea.
It hides everywhere, from fast food restaurants to alleys to high school classrooms-- not to freak you out or anything, but you always need to be on your toes, okay? Expect it not just anywhere, but everywhere.
Suspicion, she figured, was worth checking into. So she slipped past the frustrated boy and his girlfriend and moved back toward the skeeball tent, hands in her hoodie pockets, posture nothing but casual (but the kind of casual that came with a purpose, that made her look like she knew what she was doing and like she belonged, as opposed to bored and meandering, or worse, snooping). She didn't jump behind the tent, but rather leaned forward to stick her head and shoulders out into the pathway behind the stands and tents set up to present a wide alley to the patrons.
Left glance, right glance.
Where'd she go?
[Bone-Grinder] Simon was quick to aid Roman over the fence. He didn't exactly want to be spotted himself, this was a stealth mission until noted otherwise and he was going to play it as just that. Surprising as it might seem this Full Moon was surprisingly talented when it came to being stealthy about things. It was important to him after all... Stealth is how the smart Full Moon lives to see his thirtieth birthday.
[Bone Writer] He remains somewhat...distant for a moment as Roman offers an order. The Ragabash isn't argued with, prior experience and Recon. mode at this point. There wasn't anything considerably horrible about this moment (even better that they weren't going through the damn mouth). He follows, distracted, somewhat wordless for the first time since arriving to Chicago's borders. The knapsack is hitched over his shoulder and at first it almost seems as if they have to lead him to the fencing.
It's a long moment before the Godi is back in this world again, blinking rapidly and scrubbing at his eyes with finger and thumb.
"Need to keep an eye out here. Moreso than just the physical. Things flipside are solid. Stronger than they should be. Not just the location but the people. It's like they're covered in gauze or something. I'm tempted to go Weaver but...this doesn't feel like it. Not normally anyway."
[Carousel] There's this narrow sort of utilitarian alley between the booths, ugly back here. The restroom stink is sharper, and there are slops and trash everywhere. Gwen's feet sink into some half-formed something in the mud, sliding as she ducks her head back there. The shadows are different. Brighter lights bleed through the back of the booths, the games on the midway, the food concessions - but just on the other side of the restrooms is the long, blank wall of the House of Horrors, all black, jet.
The girl is standing back there, that huge, full trash bag lumpen at her feet, her hands twisted once and again around the stretched plastic, her head back, looking up at the sliver of the sky visible between the overhangs of the trucks and the booths.
Caught by surprise, a momentary panic flies across her features. Her eyes go wide, and she draws in a sharp, sudden breath. "Shit," she says, with feeling, feeling her pulse rise, her throat closing. She looks up at Gwen, then away, back down the quiet, still alley between the booths, then back.
" - you shouldn't be here."
The girl tells Gwen, low-voiced, wary, this thread of fear underneath the quiet, this thread of longing underneath the fear.
[Fate] "It's freaks Mister Linus, just freaks and they done got some other weird things in them I tell ya."
He whispered when he said that, then one hand on Simon's shoulder and he stepped in the stirrups formed by Simon's laced fingers and went over the barrier, dropping to the ground in a crouch as he waited for the other two.
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] "Didn't see any signs sayin' so."
Gwen defended herself for being back behind the booths with a jerk of her thumb toward the blank red-and-white stripes of the skeeball tent. Sure, it was common sense and courtesy that you didn't walk into a backway that was left unlit and intentionally placed out of the way, even if it didn't have 'Employees Only' put in writing somewhere. However, here in America, the land ruled by legal disclaimers and foundations set in lawsuits, these kinds of excuses tended to fly a little easier.
"But then," Gwen tucked a shock-red strand of hair behind her ear so it stopped dangling in her face and clinging to her eyelashes, "you shouldn't stare people down like you wanna wear their skin either."
She sucked her teeth against her lower lip, straightened up with her chin level with the ground, and peered with stern gray-hazel eyes at the chubbier, probably somewhat shorter girl with some adolescent, misplaced air of authority and the sense of being stone-solid about her. Tough chick, for sure.
"So what's up?"
[Bone-Grinder] Dex+Stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] "We really should have done this flip-"
He's turning around from eyeing that giant mouth again to finally notice that both young men are gone. A quick survey of the fence and it's other side through the links reveals little else as well, leaving Linus to perk a brow and slump his shoulders, an audible
"Sigh!" Cracking his lips, before he grumbles under his breath and takes several glances around. His jaw juts and one hand reaches into the pocket of his slacks, fishing around for some change and the scratch of paper bills.
[Fate] He thought Linus had followed them, in fact, it never entered his mind that the guy was out in la la land gathering wool. He whispered to Simon, close to his ear.
"Where is he? Miss Kora is gonna kill me if I done lost her little brother, no matter how much he needs his mouth washed out."
[Bone Writer] He pulls a five and goes ambling his way toward the Clown's mouth, glaring at it suspiciously and pausing a good dozen feet from the Ticket entrance and the Ticket Vendor beyond.
"Get of Fucking Fenris, you coked up tranny. S'french for I ain't ever scared."
And he goes tromping through the mouth in search of a Ticket of Entry.
[Carousel] with a hand-up from Simon, Roman vaults the fence easily and quietly, landing on the other side. The thing is flimsy, not a proper fence, and it sways under his feet and hands noiselessly as he vaults it. Roman realizes that he can probably push it open from inside, enough that the others can half-climb, half-squeeze their way over the barrier.
The little village of airstreams and RVs, fifth wheels and tenses is quiet now except for the hum of the generators, of the engines. The lights of the carnival - the Ferris Wheel, the Big Dipper - gleam in the curved skins of the airstream trailers, but most of the trailers and tents are deserted, the inhabitants working for the evening. Someone's left her laundry out, drying on a line strung together between a pair of trailers, lacy underwear with three leg holes floating in the breeze. A sort of stillness lingers back here, away from the lights and they excitement. The song of the calliope is distant but constant here. Some loud bell announces, suddenly, that someone won the strongman contest Simon was so intent on winning before.
When Roman climbs over the barrier, he feels this little pop in his ears, like a change of elevation, as if he were driving up a mountain, as if he were flying somewhere, the plane climbing into the sky. It's the same for the others, each of them, when they climb across.
Just a little pop.
---
The ticket booth for Linus. It's there, just inside the clown's mouth, illuminated from inside. There's an old woman with paper thing skin and these deep set, dead-looking eyes leaning over one of the windows, and a sharp-faced boy with deep, rich skin the color of mahoghany on the other. The woman appears to be sleeping, but she'll sharpen her eyes when Linus approaches, money in hand for a ticket.
"How many you want, sonny?" - the woman asks him, leaning forward, her scent this sort of dry, talcum powder and rot scent that is clear every through the glass, at least when she leans close to the barrier as she does now, and speaks, and smiles, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth that some hidden part of Linus swears are bloodstained. "Tickets is two for a dollar or fifteen for five."
--
something about the question's tone strengthen's the girl's spine, opens her mouth. "No! - " she has these amber colored eyes that catch the light and shine, rich undertones evident, and this ratty brown hair. " - I mean here. You, you shouldn't be here. You should, you should go before they find you. The whole place is what I mean. I - I know what you are. Jones taught me what to look for, he said they'd come for him, and take him away, and he'd take me too, and I'd -
"- you aren't." The girl swallows, hard. And continues, leaning toward Gwen, intent, confident now, even as her scent sharpens with underlying fear. " - you aren't supposed to be here. You best be careful or you'll get - you'll get stuck. I - you really should go."
[Bone Writer] "Gimme 2."
He hands the money over and waits for his change, not bothering to look the vendor hag over too closely either. His gaze is already pushing past Her toward the opening into the carnival itself. He needs to track down those two again and make sure they aren't all separated permanently, especially considering it was his first time in the land of Oz. A grunt comes, gaze flitting off through the glowing lights and bob of heads as the locals take part in the welcoming atmosphere.
[Fate] Before he knew it Simon had joined him but they had lost Linus. The little pop in his ears blew the early warning system theory though.
"Well I'll be, we'll have to work our way towards the main gate and see if we can find that danged Linus."
He cocked his head towards the gate and started slinking in that general direction, stopping to take a peek in to the first Streamliner he found a door or window to. Nothing said he couldn't be nosey along the way.
[Gwen Sullivan] Suddenly Gwen's face got a lot more serious. Previously she held her chin high and her eyes stern, but with a twinkle of some kind of amusement behind them. Like the whole thing was a game, like she could get some kind of a kick or a giggle out of stressing the girl out, out of making herself look big and bad to own up to the family heritage that she'd just recently been introduced to.
But this girl knew what she was, and was telling her that she had to get out of the carnival, the whole place, before she got stuck. Because she knew what to look for, because Jones taught her, and because 'they' would take her and Jones away, and find Gwen and take her too.
Her face turned quite solemn, to the point that the large gauges and gleaming metal piercings at her mouth didn't appear juvenile or ridiculous anymore, they were forgotten beyond the firm set of her jaw and the hard flint of her eyes. She stepped closer to the girl, reached out as though to take her by the shoulder, but hesitated and instead gestured toward the alley between the curtains, mud and electrical wires abound or not.
"I think you and I need to talk a bit more. You help me, and I can do my damnedest to help you, alright?" A pause, a moment for thought, for this to sink into the teenager's head. "Tell me what's going on here, and maybe I can help you and Jones out."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head a little and shrugs."I wouldn't sweat it too much... I mean if Kora's little brother dies she'll understand. It's like the big thing with the fenrir or some shit."He adds with a nod of his head but keeps walking alongside Roman. He wasn't about to leave another garou to wander aimlessly about this place."Keep your distance... We don't want anyone to know we are here."He says with a shrug of his shoulder. Eyes peeled and alert, he wanted to be well aware if they were being watched or trailed or anyone was approaching.
[Fate] He was good at blending and that's just what he did, he blended and worked his way back towards where Linus might come through. Though he whispered to Simon before slipping off.
"Ya know what we should do? We should find the freak show and sneak in under the back end of the tent."
[Fate] "Better yet? I've a mind to pull them there stakes out of the ground and bring the whole show down. We find Linus and between the three of us, we can take out three stakes at once. Ain't nothing gonna keep that there tent standing if we do that and all pull in the same direction."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head."Isn't that what I said earlier?"He asks Roman with a little laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. He kept quite a distance from the entrance but his eyes were there as he watched to see if Linus made it through. He might be an asshole sometimes but he wasn't gonna leave a garou to wander aimlessly and possibly die among Wyrm creatures. Well unless he did something stupid!
[Carousel] The exchange is brief and neat. Her hand feels cold and clammy as she pushes a pair of tickets and four dollar bills back through the plexiglass barrier to Linus. Four dollar bills, all the old fashioned kind, before the mint starting making them off center, with huge central portraits. The bills are a good twenty-five years out of date, each and every one of them.
Then Linus is through the clown's huge mouth, walking down the midway, scanning the booths - backed with those posters for the House of Horrors or the Freak Show, with this vague, watercolor portraits of the freaks - Vampire Boy - the Mermaid. The Wolfman.
Every sort of carnival game is here. The Duck Pond - moving river of plastic ducks in a trough - promises a prize for everyone, and everyone for a prize, while Test Your Strength offers stuffed unicorns only to the most badass of players. As Linus enters, searching the midway, trying to reorient himself, he sees a huge linebacker for the local high school team playing Test Your Strength. The indicator barely rises past "WIMPY" and his girlfriend sighs and whines - I want one of the stuffed unicorns, with rainbow butts.
--
Roman and Simon scramble through the back entrance, negotiate their way between the RVs, heading toward the lights of the carnival proper. The Ferris Wheel stands out as a becon for everyone, and the Big Dipper in the distance, illuminated like smoke against the grayed out sky. Quick-stepping but careful of the potential for detection, they cut through the narrow find the entrance to the service alley between the booths and food trucks lining the midway -
--
"Jones," the girl says to Gwen, swallowing hard, momentarily earnest. " - he's like you, right? They keep him in a cage, I know where they keep it. I have to feed him and clean up his shit when we aren't - I mean, when we aren't on. When it's not open. When we're between places, and I - look, they'll take you. I heard the MC. He wants a girl. He wants a girl so he can - "
Abruptly the girl goes still. Three booths down, a boy in a stetson and a tall, tattooed man - are cutting through the narrow serviceway. Roman and Simon see Gwen and the girl in furtive conversation at the same time the girl sees them. In the distance, an accordian starts up, and the girl - She goes still, rigid with fear and a sort of awe.
"They're like you, too," the nameless girl tells Gwen. " - they're - you're his pack. He said you'd come. He's said it all along. He said you'd come for him, and you have."
--
Nearer the entrance, Linus' progress is briefly cut off by a ragged little parade.
[Fate] He paused as they were were cutting through the serviceway and for a long moment he looked right at Gwen and the girl. Out of the side of his mouth he muttered to Simon.
"Is she looking at us? I think she is. Dang it all."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen is listening intently, eyes like granite and flint both, hard and volatile, ready to ignite, sponging the poor girl for information that she's so willing to give. Her nose wrinkled when she mentioned that the MC wanted a girl, and her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, voice swelled in the back of her throat, but she didn't say anything, deciding that a lecture on the science of Garou + Garou = Deformities and Infant Mortality wasn't exactly productive at this point.
They're like you, too.
The girl stares at and nods to a young man in a cowboy hat accompanied by a beefier looking guy with dark hair, and explains that they're the same, in a pack, that they would come and Jones said so. Gwen looked at the girl again, then gently, briefly, patted at the back of her shoulders. The touch was brief, but her arm stayed back there, framing the air behind the squat little garbage girl. "Come on, then." And she wouldn't walk unless the girl did, but regardless of whether they start moving or not she pressed the fingers of her free hand to the corners of her mouth and let out a short, sharp whistle to catch their attention.
Once she had it, she gestured them over.
[Fate] There he was thinking they were being stealthy and next thing he knew, not only did one girl look their way, but the other girl totally blew their attempt by whistling like she was calling a cab. This had him using some of his worse words, turning the air his own shade of blue.
"Dagnabit! Just like the south end of a north bound Donkey!"
[Carousel] The parade is a meager affair. The EmCee walks in front, dressed in crimson jodpurs and a long black tuxedo coat, the black so deep, so rich, it seems to have been constructed out of the color itself, it could define the meaning of shadow. Behind him, a pair of wretched looking dwarves play the accordian, which wheezes a sort of impressionistic version of the calliope's more distance song. Behind the dwarves come the freaks -
the Bearded Lady walks along, wearing a long, sweeping skirt woven with mirrors and stitched with silver thread, and a skimpy bikini top above despite the chill. she has a long, waterfall tangle of black-as-ink hair that falls down her back in luxurious waves, and a startlingly full beard. The gimp staggers next, dressed in a black straightjacket, an iron-barred mask across his face, the terrible suggestion of needle-thin teeth behind the grill. There is a girl with no more than a pair of pasties and a thong and a hip-belt of coins carrying a long, albino constrictor next, and last - a strong man - six and a half-feet tall, a mountain of muscle, pulls a large cart. With a cage that gleams silver in the lights. Inside is a man, filthy, wretched, with a six-inch silver collar around his neck, fixed by a silver chain to the back of the silver cage.
- a pair of capering dwarves dressed in jester's garb bring up the rear, handing out flyers inviting all and sundry to the Freak Show.
[Bone Writer] The Vendor is left behind with an absent-minded nod of 'Thanks' before he's pushing his way past and into the Thorough-way.
"Oh for fuck's sake..."
He mutters under his breath as the roving centrepiece of this throwback to a fallen era, comes roaming through the main walkway, much to the delight, fascinating and morbid curiosity of the crowd who gather around to jeer, chant or clap as appropriate. He stands near the back, regarding the procession with little to no avid interest, still casting out peripheral sights to see if he might recognize a stetson or bullish brow.
It's as the procession reaches it's mid-way that he shivers slightly, catching the gleam of an all too familiar presence. The Lunar metal catches the light in a dozen ways, each as recognizable to the Fenrir as the first moment he was ever burned. Each of them knows it on sight, many of them feel that tingle at a distance.
He climbs to his tip toes and scans over the heads of the crowd, hands involuntarily reaching out to steady fingers against the shoulders of several locals, only to retreat a moment later without a word despite protests and odd looks from the individuals in question. A feral twitch comes to his lips, before he is moving. Catching the gap in the crowd, long enough to take up one of the offered flyers from the wandering Dwarf.
His gaze however remains on the walking Freaks. Catching eyes where he can...stopping only as he hits the Cage and that glare of polished silver, the eyes and shape contained within.
"...The Wolfman." He murmurs, memory leaping back to one of the Posters on the Wall. The parade continues and he waits for it's rear end to come into view, before setting a course in it's wake.
[Gwen Sullivan] The parade begins to chug its way by before Gwen gets much of a chance to socialize with the two that the girl that she could only guess to be a Kinfolk just outed as being Garou as well (after all, she'd so easily guessed that Gwen was one, even picked her out of a crowd for it), and her attention is pulled to the side by a curious sensation that she hadn't experienced before.
A reaction to being in proximity to that much god damn silver. Enough to make a chain, a collar, and an entire goddamn cage. She felt like somebody was rubbing tin foil over fillings that she didn't actually have, like she was chewing on cotton, like her fingernail just got bent backwards, like somebody was scratching their fork over their plate just to make it squeak just right. She shuddered involuntarily, and took her eyes off the pudgy little teenager (who, for some reason, was being named 'Maria' in her head) to look out at the parade, to stare at the defeated looking man in the cage being carted around by an impossibly Strong Man.
"...Jones?," she asked quietly.
[Carousel] Gwen, Roman, and Simon see the parade in these patchy glimpses between the booths. The girl cowers back as much as possible, striving to remain absolutely out of view of the midway proper. As the parade continues past, down the midway, toward the attractions the Simon and Roman well-remember - the House of Mirrors and the House of Horrors and the Freak Show, the freaks displayed in that corridor that seemed to be mounted inside an 18 wheeler - impossibly long.
"Maria" is white-faced now, that sack of garbage forgotten, the stretched plastic still wrapped loosely around her wrist. There are scars there of her own, minor and old. Her stringy brown hair is pulled back from her face, into a messy ponytail, the black t-shirt is fitted to her pudgy frame, her soft breasts, her round stomach, close enough that they can almost see her heart beating.
While the accordian music plays, drifting between the attractions, "Maria" keeps her eyes shut tight, her fingers digging into her palms. Only when it has past does she open her eyes, and nod wordlessly to Gwen, affirming that that is Jones.
"I can - " the girl says, breathless, "I - can help you. I have to feed him after the show. You're here for him, right? His pack. He said you'd come. He said you'd come - that he'd feel it and you wouldn't let him stay here, that the Father didn't save him for this, that - that was - "
In that slice of the midway visible from their sheltered position, Roman catches site of Linus, outside. And linus - well, between the candy Apple booth and the Milk Jug toss, near the restrooms, he catches a glimpse of Stetson as he walks in the wake of the parade.
[Bone-Grinder] See Simon couldn't help but admire a girl with a Snake."Why is it that the Badguys always have to include a hot chick?"He asks Roman curiously, more or less keeping his attention on the lovely woman.
"What about a Donkey? Dude... I don't think that shit is legal up here in the U.S."He says this as his eyes study the woman's posterior. They might be the badguys but no one said he wasn't allowed to look!
[Fate] He was frozen in place when he caught a glimpse of the parade between barriers, it wasn't until the cage passed and he caught sight of Linus that he broke out of the horror that had held him in place.
"Did you see it? That cage?"
Then...
"There's that danged Linus!"
He asked Simon as he waved to Linus, waving him towards them even as he slipped towards the two girls.
[Bone Writer] "-I leave you two alone for one minute and you go Trollin' for tramps."
The whisper is fierce as he walks a diagonal to step in line with Roman and Simon as the paths intersect toward the Parade's rear end. He's reaching out to snag roman's sleeve and nod toward Simon for a slower pace, allowing the parade to inch by inch outpace them. It wouldn't take more than a dozen yards to catch-up again, but now was not the time for rushing into something.
"Who the fuck are they?" He flicks his chin up toward Gwen and Maria, before his eyes flick back to the Parade, honing in, it would seem on the large Silver Cage. "...And I don't think I've ever seen so much damn Hurt metal in one place. Either this rundown poverty ring of a business takes it's performances seriously or that there's a cousin in need of a key."
[Fate] "I was gonna find out who they were cause that one girl with all the shiny stuff on her face? She let out a whistle like she was calling a taxi when she saw us. Ain't every day a girl whistles at me ya know?"
He didn't want to go near that cage and he was pulling back at Linus's arm.
"Remember what I said about last time we were here? I got a bad feeling they would just love to toss us in one of them there cages."
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders while peeling his eyes away from the woman."She's not a tramp she's just misunderstood... But I can set her right. I can teach her the error of her ways."He says with a reassuring nod and a little laugh before turning his attention to Gwen and Maria."No clue... But! She seemed to wanna speak to us so maybe we should? I mean worst case scenario she's calling us over to spring a trap and kill us right?"He laughs a little and glances back at the woman once more, to snap one more memory for the road before shifting to move towards Gwen and the other woman.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen kept her arm around the poor, pale-faced girl's shoulders, a few inches back so that she wasn't making contact but was effectively mimicking comfort while keeping her from running away at the same time. The parade passed by, out of view of the crack between the tents and booths that they stood behind. She turned her head to look down at 'Maria', listened to her talk.
If there was one thing she was getting damn good at, it was listening.
Another? Noticing. That was important too.
Like noticing that she said 'The Father', and that every Garou she'd spoken to in and around the Caern had referred to their Deity as 'The Mother'. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at 'Maria's' temple, then looked past her to Roman, Simon, and Linus as they congregated near by, close enough to be in speaking distance because Roman had been walking to meet them and Linus had commented on them... if 'who the fuck are they' counts as being commented on anyways.
Rather than answer 'who' questions, she shook her head at the Godi's aloud musings and spoke in a firm voice, something that rasped just a touch, in a way that would be sultry one day when she grew into it completely. "So that was silver? Thought so..." Roman made a joke about being whistled at, and Gwen pressed on to share information.
"No. We wait, this girl here's gonna help us. And if you don't want to give that a try? Well, you go ahead and charge a silver cage. Have fun with that."
[Fate] He was starting to think this carnival was a very bad place for Simon, either that or he got the crack bowl confused with the sugar bowl when it came to sweetening his Wheaties. The comment about Tramps and setting them right was so out of no where it actually made him stumble for a moment.
"Danged, ya got to stop sucking on tail pipes when the engine's running rough."
[Bone Writer] Tugging on Linus' arm results in a sudden firmness of presence. He turns around to regard Roman with a familiar expression: It isn't as strong or prominent in Linus by any means but the cues are there. The hint of hard lines about the eyes and just between the brow. The steel of eyes more used to jest and joking. He grabs hold of Roman's arm, not hard but firmly and leans down so they're closer to eye level.
"That's one of us in that Cage. Could be a Spiral, could be Fallen, could be a fuckin' Ronin for all I know or just some Bone Gnawer got caught in the web. I'm less inclined to care much about sympathy for some bastard gets his ass caught up in something like this alone and all but..." A moment of hesitation, pulling back from Roman to regard Simon, the two women stepping into place nearby and then back to Roman again.
"We can't just let these Freaks think they can take us and put us in Cages. That ain't right. That ain't fit and that ain't how we Roll."
He relaxes his grip on Roman's arm, leaning back slightly.
"Hermodr-" And that name again, perfectly accented "-says stand. So we gotta stand..."
And then he's turning again to regard that Parade growing more distant.
"...Just not directly in the path. Fuck knows we're not stupid." A nod to Simon and Roman, before turning to eye Gwen and Maria.
"Alright. So she knows something-" His eyes remain on Maria. "-What can you tell us about the One in the Cage?"
[Bone Writer] It isn't as strong or as prominent as Kora's own^
[Fate] Gwen's out of nowhere comment on charging cages was another stumbling point.
"Well ma'am, I ain't right sure ya should be attempting mind reading without no cards."
He was a bit put off by a stranger figuring they weren't bright enough to screw in a light bulb.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."What I suck on in my own time is none of your business kiddo."He adds with a grin and a wink.
He then looks back at Bone Writer with a somewhat confused look on his face."These folks don't much look like they care much about what we think they should be doing. They look more the kinds who know full well what we are and would delight in seeing us all in cages... So long as that boy is in a cage they can put him in a cage all he likes it's the way of thw world. We'll help his ass if we can but we're not gonna do anything stupid. If they can put him in a cage they can sure as fuck put any of us in a cage if we're not careful."He says with a nod of his head.
Soon enough they have reached the other two and Simon keeps a step or two back watching over the area and generally making use of himself.
[Fate] He agreed with Linus and so bit back some of his irritation, putting on his best manners.
"Ma'am and Ma'am."
The crown of his stetson was grasped to lift the hat an inch of his head as he nodded to each.
"As my friend here just said, we need to do something about that fella and that cage and these folks here doing this stuff. But we also ain't so stupid we are going to rush in like pumpkin heads. Ain't our first rodeo."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen stared between the three strangers as they spoke, but her eyes wound up lingering on Roman a little bit longer, particularly when he tipped his hat and greeted herself and her pudgy sidekick with a pair of 'ma'am's. Her expression was more befuddled than anything else, but she blinked it away and shook her head, tapped her teeth against her lower lip piercing for a second, and finally turned to look 'Maria' back in the face.
She spoke with authority in her voice when addressing the girl, but it was quieter with her. More guiding than threatening. 'Do this for the good' rather than 'do this or I break your spine'.
"When do you feed him?"
[Fate] "There's also a time constraint on us. If this here Carnival gets itchy feet and decides to move before we leave it? We are gonna be sucked along with it. Ain't no saying when or where we will come out again when it lands."
[Carousel] They can hear the song of the accordians receding. As it disappears, and the EmCee with it, the girl relaxes, though not entirely, into Gwen's mimicry of comfort. It is clear to all of them that the pale-faced girl is in the grip of a keen sort of anxiety, stress sharp in her body, in her eyes. her knuckles are white from the strength of her grip around the tail ends of the trash bag. "Maria" stares forward, her amber-colored eyes darting from Roman to Linus to Simon - who eyes the derriere of the woman with the snack as she recedes, under she disappears.
Just once, the snake-woman turns around, looks at Simon, meets his eyes and licks her lips, slowly, savoringly. Then turns away.
"After, you know, I clean at night. I take their meals and clean out the cages, and once you get Jones out, you're gonna get me out too, right? I can go with you. Jones says that you guys can get us out of here. That you can pull out the roots and - "
--
The girl draws in a sharp breath, cuts a glance then at Bone-Writer. "...that's Jones. He's - " she pauses, breathes out sharply. "He's my friend, and he told me that you'd come. He's like you, and he's been here longer than I have, but he told me how to look for you and said I should be ready for when his pack comes. That you'd come to save him, and you'd take me out, too. I - we're - "
--
"After the parade, there's a show," the girl continues, this hushed rush of words. " - in the big-tent. Then they shut down the show for like twenty minutes while they go back to the cages, the ones they can take out. That's when I feed them, Jones and the mermaid too. Then they'll reopen for the show again. And I clean the cages, after. When we're Between.
"I - " The girl freezes, hearing something, feeling something, and looks back sharply behind her, down the row of booths. Four or five booths down, someone has opened the back door of one of the food trucks and is throwing out slops from a pail onto the ground. " - I have to go. If they see me, I'm meat. Behind the House of Freaks after the show, find me there, and I'll - "
"I'll let you in."
The girl starts to break away from Gwen, then stops abruptly, uncurls her hand from the trash bag, and digs into her front pocket. Pulls out a hand written letter, folded many times over, and shoves it toward Gwen, palm up.
" - it's a letter to my mom, in case? So she won't worry. So she'll know where I am. And - and - "
Another door starts to open, and "Maria" gathers up her trash back and starts to leave, dragging it behind her, looking sharply back at them once, then firmly, directly away.
[Fate] He was very curious who the two girls were and if they were part of this carnival. One felt like she had that special feeling to her that made her one of them. Then the one with the trash bags rushed her information out saying she had to go but would meet them, so he reassured her.
"We'll help pull them roots out. We'll be there when ya go to feed."
[Bone Writer] "...I think we're good for a while. Carnies are intent on the locals they brought in and the night's still young. They still have a lot of pockets to grift and the Freaks ain't even gone on to perform 'cept for this 'Come one, Come All' parade."
He nods toward the Crowd, large numbers of people following in the wake of the Freak Show, intent on viewing the big event to come.
"Schedule is like Maria says. So long as we keep our noses clean and don't make major trouble, we should have at least until the end of the Show." A reassuring hand is set on Roman's shoulder, nodding at the Ragabash, even if his features are a little grave. "Doesn't mean we relax but I'm thinking we're leaning on you to do things quick and quiet-like."
He turns back to Maria finally as she begins to divulge information. His gaze narrows evenly, the grave measure building in his features until the Girl darts off with her Trash bag. He lets her go without comment or nod, turning back to the Tent again.
"Got a Cousin in a Silver Cage and at best? Some kin kid scared out of her wits. Both are waiting for a pack to come in and lift 'em out." He sucks his lips between his teeth thoughtfully. "I didn't hear any other names. Signs or rank. She's been kept ignorant and there's no telling what mental state this Jones is in. Don't even know rank...moon or deed..."
A pause.
"I don't like it. Not enough info...we need more..."
[Bone Writer] "...Need to talk to this Jones directly...Get a better feel..."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was quiet while the girl gave her stammered, anxious bits of information. They had a time, they had a place, and that was the makings of a plan. The entrance of one, anyways. Before rushing away, a piece of paper that was worn and folded and smudged was pressed into her hand, a possible last request made, and Gwen stared sharply after the girl as she retreated with resolve set on her soft little shoulders.
Her mouth pressed in that displeased line again, and the paper was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans before she turned to address the guys that had joined her.
"She'd said something about this Jones fellow talking about The Father's plans... The Father, as opposed to The Mother. We don't have a Father too, do we?" Her expression is incredulous at the idea, and she flows smoothly into the other thing she picked up from the nerve-wracked teenager. "I don't think it's like what you mentioned earlier, though." This to Simon, more specifically, for what he had said earlier. "I don't think they know specifically what we are, I think he just got caught unawares. Most idiots know the myth of silver, and someone's bound to try it. It's just dumb luck that it's one of the true ones.
"She said that the EmCee is looking for a girl werewolf too... For obvious intent, if you ask me. If that's actually his intent, then he must not actually know a lot about us."
[Fate] "I'm Roman by the way, a Coggie."
He looked directly at Gwen when speaking.
"Mind if I ask who you are, Ma'am? I know for a fact that they want a female Garou. I know for a fact it is easy enough to trap one of us after being here before and seeing how they operated then. And I must say, at best they want a female for her breeding abilities, cause they done got a male."
[Bone Writer] "Kingdom for a Phil-"
The Father
His attention snaps around harshly toward Gwen, features a plague of displeasure. He steps forward a pace staring at her, voice settling into a harsh whisper.
"The Father? You're sure that's what she said?" He's adamant, watching Gwen's face for any uncertainty. Finding none, his lip rolls, something akin to an inaudible snarl before turning back to Simon and Roman, exhaling loudly. Gwen finishes her suppositions and Linus steps away from the three a pace or two scratching at his stubbled head.
"He's a Spiral." Under his breath, quiet enough that only the three of them could hope to hear it.
"The Father's a reference to the Cosmological ideals of some of the Bastards zealot number. Name's Him as Husband to the Mother, before and after. They claim he is the true path and way." Linus lip tucks between his teeth again, eyes regarding the distant path where the parade had vanished.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."Rank, Moon and deed don't matter... We pull him out and then we sort through that shit. If nothing else we put him out of his misery... Who knows how long he has been her or if he is even one of us as we understand it. Helping people doesn't always have to mean pulling them out of the fire... Sometimes shooting them in the head so they die a quick and painless death is the best you can do."He shrugs his shoulders and looks between the others with cautious eyes.
"What did she mean about pulling roots?"He asks the others curiously before settling back a bit."The whole operation is a bit bigger than I would like especially if they can drag us all with it. Means there is some kinda force or magic underlying this all which means... That is what we are looking for and that is what we wanna stop if at all possible."He says with a nod of his head."It also means they might know full well we are here..."He then gets a bit of a smile on his face."We need more information but kidnapping and torturing one of them isn't exactly something we can do effectively on the fly and might tip them off to our presence. If they don't know we are here then we don't want them knowing but just the same lets pretend, for our own sake, they know full well that we are here and tracking everything that we do. So any plan we come up with should take that matter into consideration."He says with a nod of his head.
"If I recall the MC guy was afraid of something... So if we get a chance he might be the best option as far as questioning. He's seen us in action and if we can get our hands on him he knows what we're capable of... But he can't see me or Roman coming if he gets that chance he'll respond accordingly. Don't assume that these freaks are harmless... That strong man alone could probably beat any of us to a bloody pulp with his bare fists. Most are probably Fomori or worse..."He looks around cautiously."Don't talk to the carnies either... No games."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's mouth worked silently around the word 'Coggie' for a moment as she tried to place it in memory, or to an inked and possibly highlighted or underlined word in her notebook that should probably be burned sometime soon so she wasn't leaving behind veil-rendering evidence planned out so neatly for people that could stumble upon it.
Coggie... Cog... CoG. Child of Gaia. A tribe, right.
"Ah, right. Roman." And then the guy that had appeared after the beefy man and the cowboy kid had showed up was all but bearing down on her, even though all he was doing was glaring and whispering harshly. She blinked like a deer in the headlights for a second, then nodded. "I guessed so. Alethea kept calling The Wyrm a 'Him'..."
And then back to the original thought-- she looked to Roman, and now Simon as well. "This has happened before?"
And, as an afterthought: "Ohshit. Hey, yeah, I'm Gwen. And incredibly new to this."
[Gwen Sullivan] Last Posts:
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was quiet while the girl gave her stammered, anxious bits of information. They had a time, they had a place, and that was the makings of a plan. The entrance of one, anyways. Before rushing away, a piece of paper that was worn and folded and smudged was pressed into her hand, a possible last request made, and Gwen stared sharply after the girl as she retreated with resolve set on her soft little shoulders.
Her mouth pressed in that displeased line again, and the paper was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans before she turned to address the guys that had joined her.
[Fate] He peered at Gwen, looking pass her in the direction the girl ran off in, then in the direction the parade of the Damned went.
"We have a big show going on in the big tent after the parade. Then the girl feeds the Mermaid and that Jones fella. She said then they do another show and between shows she cleans cages. Says she will meet us behind the Freak Show and let us in after it is over. I remember the Freak show tent. I bet you do too Simon."
He looked at Simon as he spoke, then back to the others, especially Gwen.
"How do we know this girl is not setting us up?"
He was Ragabash, caution was his meat and potatoes.
[Bone Writer] "We don't. "
His attention returns to the others, regarding Roman first and then each of them in turn.
"But what other options do we have right now? Pick up and go home? Push in from the umbra which is more of a threat? Walk in and gut everything in sight and hope we have the manpower for whatever they've got to provide?"
He shrugs, unbuttoning the length of his gray coat, murmuring quietly in the wake of the Parade already vanished from sight.
"I say we take the plan. Shit goes south, we go umbral. I should be able to guide us out from the Spirit, so long as we stay together and don't get separated."
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head back at Gwen."We bumped into these folks a while back. I think they were wanting to take one of us alive... Best that Roman and I keep out of sight as much as possible. We don't wanna be spotted by the locals."
He then nods his head at Roman."You're right we don't know that she isn't setting us up. This could be exactly how they plan on getting their hands on a new toy."He says this with a shrug of his shoulders."It would be a clever act on their part but far from beyond the realm of possibilities. So if we're gonna go forward with this we should do so carefully and cautiously... Never put anything past a Wyrm creature however unlikely it might appear."He turns his attention to Gwen."As the only Female werewolf here I think we might know who the most likely target would be."He says before looking around.
"I'd much ratrher go through the Emcee to get our hands on the prisoner, however, That makes things a little rougher and a little more dangerous. This turns from a rescue mission into something a little more heated. But then again I didn't come here with the intention of doing too much rescuing myself. Secondary objectives... I think ending the threat would do far more good than helping a single misplaced Garou."
"But her plan does sound solid at the very least."
[Slaughter] Out on the mid-way, redhair flashes, pale skin, a slight body. The freaks have marched already, and the crowd is starting to dissipate from either side, some crossing, some simply heading further in. The red-hair (and pure-breeding) moves as the kinwoman steps out onto the midway, her head turning to look in the direction where the freaks have gone, her hands, absently tucked into the pockets of her jeans, keeping the coat secure from the tug of the wind, keeping it from fluttering, as she keeps it open.
Too far to see her expression - too far to see if she frowns or smiles or merely looks bland. But close enough to see the red hair - close enough to recognize her, at least, if you've seen her before.
[Carousel] The wheezing accordian music still seems to echo down the midway. There's a brief, lingering sort of silence in the wake of the small parade, this stillness - everyone's stopped, the barkers, the chefs, the deep fry cooks, the game-players, the games - everyone's stopped to watch the parade and its macabre assortment of broken human beings.
Then - as the sound of the accordians - one out of tune with the other - fades, life returns to the midway. From their sheltered place between the booths and food trucks, they can hear bits of conversations. Some football player demanding another three balls, a girl shrieking in delight over some prize. A man drawling some explanation to another about prostheses, make-up, special effects. Another hooping that lady with this shake shows more than her boobs at the midnight show, reporting that her heard from one of the carnis that the midnight one's special. Only four hours away now.
- there's music in the background, the whirl of lights from the Rock'n'Roll express. The scent of deep fried dough and spilled beer, underneath some animal scent, dry-dust.
Three stalls down, the back door of a white food truck opens, and someone throws out first one, then two small bags of trash.
[Bone Writer] (Perception + Investigation: Diff 6 - PB.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)
[Gwen Sullivan] "I don't think this is so much about helping out a misplaced Garou, especially not if he's on the wrong side of the ideological fence." Gwen was eyeballing Simon uncertainly while he spoke, one hand in her snug hoodie pocket while the other hand twirled and fiddled with the spiraling decoration that was looped through the gauge in her left ear. You could call it a nervous habit, she wouldn't call it anything, just stop for a few minutes if it was pointed out.
"I think it's more about the Veil. We can't keep a secret with something like this guy out on public display, you know? Most people'll dismiss it, but someone will try and... I don't know, maybe buy him for scientific study? And then a whole can of worm's will open.
"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't stop the operation entirely while we're here too, right? I mean, this is the second time it's cropped up already."
There's a pause, and the hand that played with her ear dropped into her pocket as well, and she looked at Linus doubtfully. "...Is there a way to piggyback into the spirit world? I...'ve only been once."
[Bone Writer] "Dude...is that who..."
Linus catches the red. Blinking, frowning, scowling and jaw dropped momentarily. He shifts stance to regard the crowd, head bouncing back and forth to maintain view of the image burned through the drab and regular.
"...I...think it is?" His voice grows exceedingly more agitated as the words trickle out, feet already beginning to pluck at the mid-way in Her direction. It isn't until Gwen pipes up that Linus snaps his attention back around toward her, the frown remaining.
"What? No, not without a bond. Pack. Shit you really are new? This isn't the time or place for a fucking cub." The last part said more to the others though his eyes remain on Gwen.
"You stick close to me and if the time comes, do what you did the first time. It's like reaching only you don't think, you do. I won't go across until you're gone and someone else has gone with you, now just...hold on..."
And he's peeling away from the Group again, eyes flicking to Roman, pointing.
"Do you know...who that is?"
[Fate] He was looking at Gwen like she might of smoked some wild weed when Linus popped up and put her straight. It was when he pointed out Imogen that his attention shifted.
"Well I'll be a two headed calf. That there is Miss Doctor Slaughter. What in the tarnation is she doing here?"
[Fate] It wasn't a moment later that he was fishing a cell out of his pocket and punching one of the numbers while watching Imogen across the way. When she answered he spoke.
"Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am. If ya would kindly look dead ahead and a little to the right, ya see that there gap between things? See that there hand a waving? Ya think ya could do me the pleasure of joining me here in this here dark gap? I'd be right honored."
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."This is a Wyrm operation not a Civilian operation... If this Carnival is, in fact, capable of sucking people in as it disappears and reappearing elsewhere then the entire thing is some kinda fucked up. I don't know what it would be? Maybe like a Wyrmhole but different? Protecting the Veil isn't really a concern cause I don't think they are going to be letting their werewolf be studied. I think the real threat lay in the fact that this place can disappear and reappear anywhere it pleases on a whim carrying off it's victims at it pleases without anyone being the wiser. We've got a far bigger threat than the life of a Single Garou and some supposedly innocent girl going on here. End the operation and we save them all... But if we only save them then we are abandoning hundreds if not thousands who will be tainted, corrupted, or simply whisked away by this fucked up place. I think it should be pretty clear that ending the threat should be our primary concern here. We end the threat and we help thousands of people in the process... Not that helping people is our objective it's just a good enough reason."
"As it stands that Garou is useless to us. We have no idea if it is even salvageable. Who knows maybe it will freak out and have to be killed when we free it? Maybe it's a Black Spiral Dancer? It is of no immediate help to us... It's life is forfeit at the moment. All our lives are... We know the risks we take when we walk into a situation and we understand that Capture and worse are possible consequences for those actions. I would love to help him but I think we've got much bigger fish to fry. This isn't Heroes... First we gotta save the World then we can worry about the fate of the Cheerleader."
[Gwen Sullivan] Linus stared at her as though she'd sprouted an extra arm, and then the expression shifted to something that made it seem as though she'd just had an accident on the dining room rug and was being scolded harshly for it. She flushed at the cheeks and ears, appeared ashamed if only for a few seconds before the unfamiliar and too-potent force of Rage boiled at her skin and fired up in her ribcage like a bad case of heartburn.
Her weight shifted between her feet, her lips parted enough for an irritated sigh to pass through them, but the words didn't follow after. Sure, they bounced about in her skull, the snide, firey comebacks of any teenage girl, but they were left unspoken.
Rather, she watched Roman with his cellphone, watched Linus staring out into the crowd, and found herself wondering who they'd just spotted, besides the obvious of the name that the Child of Gaia had just spoken.
[Slaughter] From their vantage point, they can see the redhead retrieve a mobile from her pocket, glancing at the call display before answering. "Dr. Slaughter," she says, though she knows who it is.
Silence while he speaks, and when he's done - well, from this distance, whether she sees him or not is hard to tell, but she hangs up without another word. Moments later, the good doctor is headed in their direction, her phone returned to her pockets, her hands in the same position.
"Fancy meeting you here," she says, a greeting which is primarily directed at Roman, though she's met Simon in the past.
[Fate] "Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am."
He lifted his hat by the crown, canting his head to her.
"This hear is Simon, Linus who's Kora's lil brother and this here."
He indicated Gwen.
"Is Miss Gwen who we just met. We were wondering if ya might want to join us in a trip to the Freak Show. We're either going to save the world or end up in a big ole silver cage. Now don't that sound like a fine way to spend a Fall evenin?"
[Bone Writer] "Whattttt the-"
He's pointing. Repeatedly at Imogen, his attention leveled on Roman throughout the proceeding.
"You know that-" He turns suddenly, regarding Imogen, hands held up like he was about to handle something fragile or imply a lack of aggression "-Apologies, Slaughter, not looking to step on your parade but...you really shouldn't be here. Major issues with Corruption and possible Dancers and regardless of who you are and just how much bad ass is actually attached to your name? I think you better find an exit out of- fuck, no that doesn't work..."
His hand slaps his forehead, before running up his scalp and over the stubble there.
"Escort necessary but that reduces our numbers and no guarantee we won't get spotted." He's thinking, a brief interruption given to Roman "-Younger, Kora's shorter than I am-" pacing back and forth in a tight path.
"We can't take her with us into this!" He turns finally, looking somewhat frustrated by the entire thing, hands spread as if awaiting other options.
[Gwen Sullivan] "What escort necessary?"
Gwen, ever helpful, piped up again, even if the burn of Rage was still charring her ribs and sizzling the ends of her sentences. She moved a hand from her pocket to point from the shoulder toward the large clown head that made up the front gate.
"Who's stopping her from walking back out?"
[Fate] "Language around a Lady...."
He shook his head, then looked at the others, including Imogen.
"Time's wasting. The longer we stand in one spot, the more the chance someone will stumble over us. Let's get moving through the back ways here, we'll head for that big ole tent to peek under it at the show, then station ourselves so we all ain't standing out when we go to meet that there girl. If anyone can pass for normal in this here bunch, it's Miss Doctor Slaughter. She might have purdy hair and eyes and all, but she ain't got the anger that bleeds from us."
[Slaughter] Imogen regards Bone Writer as he - well - rants, her expression even-keeled. Very little flickers over alabaster
"Look," she says quietly. "I didn't know yeh had an operation 'ere, and I was 'ere to check it out before callin' Full-Bloods to let them know. Now that I am here, and you are here, yeh ha' two options. Yeh can accept my track record fer what it is, concede that I am moderately intelligent and therefore capable o' stayin' back behind Garou while pickin' targets t'help you out, or yeh can let me turn here and walk out without wastin' one o' yer warriors on me.
"Frankly, I don't care which yeh pick as the risk to me is the same either way. If I can help you, I'll help you. If yeh think I'll be in your way, then yer own your own and so am I."
A beat.
"But don't waste time talkin' or arguing about it. Like he said," a tilt of her head, "The longer yeh stand in one spot." She doesn't quite trail off, though she does end it there.
[Bone-Grinder] He looks at Imogen and then around to the others then back to Imogen."I think it's Dr. Slaughter's choice if she wants to be of use to us or not... I really don't think we need to coddle or hide our kin or anyone's kin from danger just because it rears it's ugly head. Girl can make her own choices..."He knew she held a genuine lack of interest in the affairs of Garou so he didn't exactly think she would offer much help but still he was a Shadow Lord and Kin were expected to be able to be of use to their tribe in ways other than breeding.
[Slaughter] The look Imogen gives Simon as he begins to speak suggests he should shut up. It's enough to blister the skin.
[Carousel] The rickety structure of a wooden rollercoast rises in the middle distant against the smoke gray sky. It looks as if it might be a good half-mile or more distant. Just Imogen's cell rings, another car ratchets up the incline toward the top of the monstrous hill, curving around a narrow bank until -
- she turns away, folds her phone into her pockets, and cuts between the bean-bag toss and the Fresh Squeezed Lemonade! truck. The scent of used vegetable oil and discarded trash sharpens as she approaches the group.
Three booths down, another bag of garbage joins the first two.
Another bag of garbage joins the first two.
Someone's whistling - not Dixie but Disney. Whistle while you work.
---
And then a boot on the top step of the - Bar-B-Que pit, a cowboy boot, snakeskin, with the hint of metal that is the edge of a spur.
[Bone Writer] He stares at Roman, jaw hanging slightly, head beginning a very slight bounce back and forth until it's a full blown disbelieving waver.
"Look..." Hands up again, swallowing slowly and exhaling with calm in mind.
"There's a difference between a Kin in the wrong place at the wrong time, mid-fisticuffs and bringing one along knowingly into a situation we don't have any immediate control over-" And then Imogen is talking and Linus shuts up. Just, clicks off and snaps his attention toward her. A sharp inhale later and that disbelieving shake of the head returns.
"...Fine." A grit-toothed thing. A finger raises, leveling at Roman, voice lowering slightly. "But we're not done talking about this-"
And he's turning toward the midway again, that frown not going away anytime soon.
"So our plan is to what? Get in with the Girl-" He waves a hand ambiguously, obviously having forgotten her name already "-that was here with Gwen's help? Kak the body in the cage and pull out?"
[Fate] More trash flew out the back of the booth, all to whistled music. Then the spurred boot appeared and he hissed.
"Move."
With that he melded off in the direction of the big tent, slipping one arm around Imogen's shoulder as he lifted his voice slightly.
"Why sure thing Sugar. Ya want one of them there fluffy bears, I'll win one for ya. But first my little brother wants to see the show."
He looped the other arm over Linus shoulder, chuckling like they were having a good ole time as he started edging them away from possible trouble with being overheard or spotted for what they were too soon.
[Fate] "Ya coming Johnny or are ya gonna stand out here making out with your girl?"
He spoke over a shoulder to Bone Grinder, just making up names as he went.
"Ya know ya want to see that show as much as we do."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen and Roman noticed the person exiting the back of his booth at (perhaps precisely) the same time, and responded accordingly. He spoke, and she merely acted, hunching her shoulders up grudgingly like any teenager about to get caught sneaking a cigarette or a joint out from the public eye would.
One hand moved from her pocket to yank her sweater hood up over the distinguishable Crayola coloring of her hair, and her eyes sharpened accusingly at Roman when he paired her up with Simon as a part of the 'We're normal kids!' facade he was throwing out loud and obvious to throw anyone off the trail of suspicion. She looked to Simon next, wrinkled her nose up some, and trudged forward after Roman and his rodeo buckle go-get-em attitude.
[Bone-Grinder] The look he gets from the Kin prompts him to look back at the woman. His smile shows through though those eyes show something far less than enjoyment or pleasure. The eyes of a Full Moon were easy enough to read especially when they were dripping with contempt. The full moon immediately begins to move slipping in with the group and keeping close enough.
He heard the clicking of a Spur. The little clang set the hairs on the edge of his neck on edge. Battle was his way of life, and it was almost startling how something so simple could put him in defensive mode, ready to lash out and slay anything that so much as made the wrong move.
He listens to fate and stops himself from correcting the New Moon on his name. After all he could have just as easily called him Simon."I don't care much for shows... Specially freak shows. All of them together in one place like that. At least it gets the majority of the crowds away from the booths. Gives you a chance to enjoy the rest of the show."This was stupid to him. He wasn't big on pretending to be anything more or less than what he actually is. Acting was not a talent he prided himself on. Stealth, Cunning, Raw Brutality these were what defined a warrior. Besides during the show was the best time for them to be out and about dealing with the problem.
[Carousel] In the service alley behind the midway, a body follows, taking the two steps down from the parked truck to reach down and grab the bags. The man is moderately sized, whip-lean, wearing jeans under a white apron smeared with some dark substance. He has gray hair, thinning at the crown, pulled back into a pony tail, and he is straightening, bags in hand, whistling an off-tune version of
Moon River -
Closer, there's a loud, gaseous sort of sigh as a hydraulics system somewhere close expells a sharp burst of air, lowering something quickly. Some ride, some spider-thing, covered in lights erupts toward the sky. A girl shrieks one of those bright, noisy sounds that glides on the razor line of delight and fear. Roman slides an arm around Imogen's shoulder as if they were - well, high school kids at their homecoming fair. The midway is crowded now, a group of football players gathered around the Test Your Strength towers, striking to win stuffed animals - not for their girlfriends, now, but for themselves, this kind of living fever there.
They emerge between the Lemonade Stand and the bean-bag toss, passing just under one of those water-colored advertisements for the Freak Show's Mermaid - this vision of a demonspirit, sharp-eyed, white-skinned, with alien eyes and long, thick fingernails sharpened to pin-points -
"Win a prize for your girl?" the carnie in the beanbag booth calls out to Simon, smiling an oleaginous smile as they pass. He has a beanbag, that he tosses up and down in one hand, the contents running together like pebbles, this soft, concerted movement - that somehow feels - menacing.
[Slaughter] Imogen had opened her mouth to speak - to warn or perhaps, adroitly (bluntly) suggest they move, when Fate moves more quickly - and with a plan far from what she might have chosen. She is smaller than the sixteen year old, and he can always fling his arm around her, her shoulders vibrating slightly under the impact as he forcibly - and then suddenly not so forcibly, after a moment of resistance, she merely moves with him - guides her toward the big tent.
One hand lifts, the one between their bodies, and she jabs a thumb, firmly between the ribs - where sensitive nerves are, but it is the only remark she makes on his particular choice of - illusion.
"Thanks ever so much." She does, at least, keep the sarcasm from her voice.
She's missed much of what's gone on. The girl, the plan, fledgling though it might be - or perhaps it isn't. She watches their surroundings - the Garou and waits for, well, anything. A sign, a hint. An opening.
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] -They push and jostle and Linus claps his trap, letting Roman settle them into a niche of illusion beyond the views and sights of their surroundings. He takes the moment to clap down on ingrained traditions and focus on the task at hand. They were shifting through the crowd and regarding their options quietly, Linus digging his knapsack off one shoulder and thrusting a hand inside hurriedly.
It isn't until they reach the edge of one of the booths, that Linus' attention flicks up, catching the Vendor and his attempt to lure Simon in with the age old carnie talk-up. A moment of distraction that leaves Linus to pull the shard of mirror he kept for moments like these free of the bag and palm it comfortably.
When the next moment to step out of time with the rest of the Group arrives, he flicks his gaze down into the reflection, once more sending his eyes across for a glance.
(Peeking. Gnosis -1 diff. for reflective surface)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 10
[Bone-Grinder] Simon knew what the booths could do. He knew the effect they had upon you once you got started, and it was difficult for him when the challenge was thrown his way. His eyes peeled from the others and he looked back with a deadpan stare that almost implied he was offended the man would even ask. This place was tainted... The very fabric of reality around them had been woven into a kind of spiritual representation of a Carnival which fed upon the baser emotions and desires of it's victims. It wasn't just tainted... it was taint. It was in itself a kind of living twisting corruption of spiritual and physical that likely fed as a collective whole off the sins of it's victims. He would not feed it... He would not take part in adding to its strength.
"What was that you were saying about the Father?"He asks Bone Writer once they're far enough away that no one who might have been listening earlier was listening in. Still he was soft about it."Who was that referencing? The one in the cage or someone else?"He asks curiously.
Linus had mentioned something about a Black Spiral Dancer earlier and if that is the case then that might be the first of their targets. Though likely that was not the "Roots" that the girl or her Werewolf friend were addressing. Certainly it would be in the interest of any dancer to feed a Wyrm Creature, Thing, Entity of this sort... Help it grow in strength.
[Fate] He grunted when jabbed between the ribs, but he kept leading them away, whispering to Imogen as he pretended to kiss her ear and nuzzle.
"There was a True in a silver cage that went past. A girl told Gwen she knows all about our kind and she wants us to save her and the guy in the cage. She's gonna get us in the back of the Freak Show when the coast is clear, so we gotta met her there...."
He stopped in his tracks right before a faded poster and spoke up to Simon.
"Whoa howdy. Look at this Simon. That strong man? This hear post says his name is Franklin. Ya remember Jaba the Hutt in the pot? His name was Franklin."
[Bone Writer] "...It's a religious reference to the Wyrm. The one in the Cage is a bastard. Easier to kill him than...anything...else..."
Distracted, the Godi's features grow slack as his vision is stolen from this world and thrust into another.
[Bone-Grinder] He nods his head."So the one in the Cage is the one who referenced the Father? Are you sure that is a reference to the Wyrm and not... A reference to Fenris or someone else?"He asks the man curiously."Any hint we can uncover as to who is behind the Carnival itself would help. I am not going to let this place disappear again without trying to do something more significant."He was speaking softly, loud enough that the man could hear him though he was being deliberate in not letting his voice carry too far.
Roman then addresses him and he shrugs his shoulders."Do you think it is actually franklin?"He asks Roman softly. A tiny hint of a smile on his face as he looks at the poster."Maybe it is a coincidence? Or we could always get our hands on the Emcee again... I think we could get him to talk pretty damn quickly. If we can just get to him."
[Gwen Sullivan] "You know..."
Gwen had been walking not far off from Simon's elbow since they'd exited the back alley of shadows and grease-stink behind the tents and booths and little tin trailers. Roman had his arms about Linus and Dr. Slaughter, had stuck her with the big Shadow Lord as a part of his on-the-spot storyweaving, so she started walking with him and hadn't moved yet. Grudge be damned, she could still play nice if she really had to.
That didn't mean the bite was taken off her words any at all.
"You could just try asking me. I'm just a cub and all? But I'm the gal who held the ten minute long conversation with our in."
[Fate] "How many Franklins do ya think might be associated with this here rodeo? I think maybe, one. I also think it's time to take another turn here and weave our way to that meeting area before we start to argue among ourselves and set off a big ole flare to them that know what to look for. Ya can bet it's more'n one girl with the know how."
He let go of Imogen as soon as he picked the gap and slipped in to it.
[Bone Writer] "A reference to Fenri-"
He turns, eyes a frosted white, like static around the pupil, the heat of Rage skating off Linus' shoulders. A finger raises, aimed in Simon's direction.
"You're not a fucking theurge, remember? Please stop trying to make some level of moronic sense out of the mystical crap and just take my word for it?" His attention returns with a fluttering and abrupt snap of re-focus, head shaking, a pair of fingers at his brow.
"Our umbral escape is shot through. Slaughter can't make that trip and they're near as solid on that side as this, no telling if they'll be able to follow or track us as easily. We need a new out if things go hairy."
[Fate] "I hate to bring this up, but we are going to need Miss Doctor Slaughter if it comes to handling that there silver cage."
He lowered his voice as he started through the gap between booths and picked service ways towards the Freak Show tent.
"Also last time we had to make an escape, it weren't easy, but it happened. That's a bridge we'll have to have some faith in when the crossing comes."
[Slaughter] "I suspect," Imogen says, after having said nothing while the others speak, having barely reacted as Fate had whispered in her ear. "If things are so bad tha' yeh have t'run, and if the Umbra is not available t'yeh, yeh'll ha' little choice but t'fight yer way out, regardless.
"But head fer the trees, fer the creek so no one can get yer smell. Might be the best bet. Other than that, it's fields, and yeh'll stand out like a sore thumb."
[Bone-Grinder] He can't help but smile a little when she speaks up and he turns his head in her direction."What did she say about whom?? I wanna figure out who the players involved are... So we can figure out who we can strike to put this thing to an end. Helping the girl and her friend are their own stories but if we can bring this thing down it will help a lot more people including us."He says this while looking over the poster.
His attention shifts back to Roman."Well let's keep it in mind... I don't know the significance but... If Franklin isn't dead then we've got a bigger problem here than we initially believed."
He then looks back at Bone Writer."Right... Because a whole tribe who calls themselves the Children of a Totem wouldn't dare reference their totem as a father. You know kinda like how we don't call ours Grandfather."He says with a little laugh."I'm not a fucking theurge you're right... But you're also not a Philodox and if we're gonna judge this guy before we even get to him and decide he's gotta die I would think we had considered all possible interpretations before we condemned him to death."Gwen was the only Philodox present and she was a Cub and still learning.
Soon enough they were moving again and Simon kept close to Roman."If we put an end to this place we won't need to worry as much about escape. Find the heart and cut it out... Without the heart the rest of the body will dissipate and die right?"
[Fate] "And the guy in the cage, that Jones? He knows what we don't, so we need his knowledge to get to the root of this."
He nodded to Simon.
"Don'tcha worry none. I got me a feeling that if we don't end this now we might end up roomates with Jones or with our heads on a wall."
[Carousel] The carni keeps his eyes on Simon, tosses up that beanbag again as if he meant to lob it at the other, as if he were capable of reading underneath the skin something written there - Simon's want to win, Simon's need for it - but then the group is moving again, immersing themselves in the whirl of life on the midway, making their way - down the midway, through the booths, past the familiar rides and sideshow attractions. A Tilt-A-Whirl, The House of Horrors. The House of Mirrors. The Arcade, skeeball machines glittering with a sort of terrifying cacaphony of clashing lights, a siren erupting everytime someone tosses a bull's eye.
"Mistress Heshima, Advisor to Kings and Queens! - " calls out another dwarf, standing outside a tent constructed of ratty velvet on an old plastic milkcrate, speaking through a fiberboard megaphone. " - come one, come all!"
---
The House of Freaks is a good ways down the line, and the farther they walk, the farther away the Big Dipper - that rickety coast in the distance - seems. Then, they pass the Ferris Wheel, like a pivot in the center of the carnival, and find themselves abruptly standing before the painted 18-wheeler trailer that contains the House of Freaks. The sideshow tent at the end, stairs leading up to the side, the decking, the ticket booth all seems the same. A poster with a moveable clock says that the next show begins in 15 minutes and a moving crowd lingers, tickets in hand, awaiting entrance to the freak tent.
--
There is a sort of tattered glory to the front facades, the velvet, the gleaming lights that wink on and off, the music, the movement, the laughter. Behind - though - that vintage charm is gone. On the other side of the trailer, a sliding door bisects container, a rough set of wooden steps leading up to it. The rolling doors are closed now, and again the muffled sound of the show is audible through the tent at the trailer. Back here, generators run and garbage is sloughed off thoughtlessly, thanklessly.
It's easy enough to find a place to hide here, and await the girl. Under the body of the trailer, in the mud underneath the stairs. Oil drips, and the metal makes the ambient noise of the carnival echo oddly through space.
--
"Maria" comes after ten minutes, carrying a wide, heavy pallet covered with plastic, dragging an odd-shaped bag behind her. She appears from between a smaller truck and the curved end of an old air-stream trailer, her jaw set, strain evident in her face. At the trailer, she heaves up first the pallet then the bag onto the wooden platform, then climbs the steps, pulling out a mess of jingling keys as she looks around for them, waiting.
[Bone Writer] "Just...stop talking."
A pained sort of expression crosses the Godi's face as the group continues to make their way through the crowds and finally ends at a small section where Roman ducks out of sight briefly.
"We keep coming across a lot of Ifs and Buts about this situation and this place and we keep upping the ante on just what we want to do about it. Shut it down, cut out the Wyrm, talk to Jones and find out what he knows and yet the longer we stick around, the more risk we run of getting caught ourselves."
He gestures, vehemently between the lot of them.
"We've got a Cub and a Fucking kinfolk here with us-" his voice is low but heated at Roman and Simon "-and none of us are packed, you dig?! We're in foreign territory and up against too many questions with a decided lack of escape whether things go south-" A flickering glance at Imogen "-or we end up succeeding and needing to get out quietly."
A heartbeat to let that all hover in the air.
"If we're going to do something? Then it should damn well be to end the immediate threat, set them back to square one and then head out and come back in force with Kora-" A nod at Roman "-and the rest of the Long Watch to tear this place apart."
By the time he's finished they've managed to make their way to visual distance of Maria, who Linus casts a glance and ceases to move forward. He doesn't bother getting within earshot of her while they're discussing this.
[Fate] He was going to have a chat with Kora later if they made it through this, but for now he just looked at Linus before slipping up to the way in, not liking walking in to this without knowing if it was a trap or not. Though sure as they were born, he'd slip through that door when it opened for them.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen had fallen back into silence, a state that was grim and grudging and more firmly so each time she was reminded that she was a liability more than a help. This was just plumb encouraging, she may as well just go hang out at her car for another hour and wait for the gas pump to start back up.
...but no. Even if it was suggested she wouldn't. This was that sense of duty that Alethea was talking about.
So she hangs out, crouched down with her knees jutted out like a gargoyle while waiting for the chubby teenager to re-emerge and lead them in where they needed to go. She listened to the Grown Ups talk, and was among the first to notice when 'Maria' came into view, looking around for them. Without so much as a word to the others waiting in the muck and stink behind the freakshow, she stood up and moved to meet the teen.
It was dangerous to put herself in this mindset, she knew, just in case the tables turned, but she still felt that letter to mom like it was made of granite in her back pocket.
[Slaughter] Imogen crouches on her heels. Though Bone Writer has suggested she might be a liability, it does not seem to cause a reaction - little more than a bland glance his way as he refers to her.
Her forearms rest lightly on her knees, a few tendrils of hair falling into her eyes. She watches as Gwen gets to her feet and strides toward Maria, her gaze intent on the girl, then flicking toward the bag she's dragged.
[Bone-Grinder] He shrugs his shoulders."We came here... You, Roman, and I... In a Car... With the intention of stopping this carnival before it had the chance to disappear again. So far as I see it the fact we are helping someone else out in the process does not change the original plan whatsoever. If you didn't want to follow through with the original plan when we arrived at this place then you should not have come."He says with a shrug of his shoulders."Whatever the case I'm not even going to fuck with this anymore... Let's just finish this and get the fuck out."
[Carousel] "Hey - " Maria says to Gwen, casting a furtive glance over the shadowy little clearing behind the freak show. There is laughter and music still coming from the tent, and the Ferris Wheel - behind them now - turns 'round and 'round, casting both their faces in a moving array of colors. She's nervous, this girl, the strain of it evident in her eyes, in the gritty way she smiles at Gwen. In the way her hands shake as she pulls out a ring of keys, peers out into the shadows.
" - they're down to the sexy part of the show, right. Everyone else's back in their cells. So, uhm. You go in, and I'll - I'll watch here, and - " Hands shaking as she sorts through the keys on her ring, and finally inserts one after another into the half-dozen locks on the back of teh trailer. " - you know, you can see the Big Dipper from anywhere in the carnival. I heard that if you - if you find it, you can get out there, and they can't - "
The key tumbles the locks. The door opens. "Hurry, okay?" The stink of her fear is palpable, even to their dull human noses.
[Bone Writer] ...He watches, eyes flicking from body to body as they turned and moved, decided. Both hands raise to scrub at his face violently, silently, mouth gaping as if to scream, though no sound emerges. He sucks in a breath, eyes moving back the way they came, as if to memorize the world they were about to leave behind.
A hand sneaks past the buttons of his gray coat, fingers brushing flesh just above the left pectoral. It's a gesture of reassurance, visibly calming him on the surface and through gritted teeth.
He moves forward in the wake of the group, unraveling the scarf from his neck and shoving it forcibly into one of the jacket's side pockets.
"...Fine." Hard edged. And Quieter. "Fine..."
It's as they're moving forward and Maria offers a word that Linus' attention catches on her.
The big dipper
"...The Constellation?" He hooks a thumb up into the sky over his shoulder, gaze narrowing.
[Fate] "The roller coaster."
He whispered and wrinkled his nose with the smell of fear coming off Maria. Part of his brain was screaming it could be a trap and he looked at Imogen to make sure she was with him where he could push her back of need be, even if it meant she shot him. It was to the door and through he went.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Or the ride," she offered to Linus, her voice quiet. She's studying Maria with the same rock-steady stare that she'd been regarding the girl with since she revealed that she could tell Garou for what they were, and furthermore that she would help them out. She watches the key ring, watches fingers fumble over them, and clicked her tongue once against the back of her teeth in a way that was half-scolding, half-apologetic when the door was pulled open and the girl was urging them to hurry in.
"We appreciate your help, but you should understand why we are cautious."
Her hand was extended, palm up, expectantly.
"Either you come in with us, or we get the keys. Does that sound reasonable?"
[Carousel] "No - " the girl says, looking up at the sky, and now that Linus looks the stars here feel strange, shifted. Then, startled, back toward the shadows below. Briefly, a smile ghosts across her features, making her almost pretty. " - the ride?"
Then, it is her turn to point toward the stretch of track visible against the mist in the middle distant.
[Bone Writer] ...And Linus' gaze flicks back over their shoulder to take in the Ride (and the sky, briefly) with a puzzled frown. His grunt is low and soft, mind already pouring over the mechanics of it. Mirror-side like a Caern. Boundary like a Bawn.
"...Stands to reason there's a Gate as well."
But it would have to wait. On the run planning. He curses under his breath and follows Roman and the others inside.
[Carousel] Maria draws in a sharp breath, watching Gwen, then swallows hard and hands over the keys.
They fall in a tumble into the Philodox's hands.
- and they are heavier than they look like they should be.
[Slaughter] She studies Maria, as she draws nearer, as she speaks to the others, as the others speak to her. What she sees draws little by way of reaction beyond a faint crease in her brow, then gone. Whatever it is, she doesn't share it with the others.
She follows them inside, one hand moving back beneath her jacket, then falling free at her side.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Thank you."
The words were more gentle than her eyes had been all night, and Gwen took the keys, judged the weight of them with a curious expression on her face, then concluded with: "Please watch the door," before turning, waiting for Imogen to pull herself up into the trailer, then stepping inside as well.
She wanted to trust the girl, but she couldn't. Without they key ring (and she could only hope the girl didn't have a second one) she couldn't lock them inside once everyone had piled in like the too-trusting dimwits with too-few options that they were.
[Bone-Grinder] Simon enters without further questions. The plan was changing, and he didn't like it at all. They were putting their lives on the line for a relatively minor cause to help some chubby girl and her werewolf boyfriend... One could almost feel the rage rising off him at the thought of this. It was not what he came for. It was not why he was here but if he lacked the backup to stand up and face the threat then he would do what he could.
His eyes shifted about in search of anything of interest. Any sudden movements, anything hidden from the eye. He kept himself as well hidden as possible, or at least tried to keep himself behind anything that might block others views as he searched for signs of anything he might recognize as a danger or a threat or just plain strange.
[Carousel] Before, Roman and Simon saw the Hall of Wonders in all its glory. The lighting was atmospheric, subtle - the glow from the red buttons that turned on the flood lights for each individual cage in a long, straight march down the far too expansive truck-trailer. Tonight, "Maria" has turned on the overhead lights, which blare out, incandescent and ugly, from industrial fixtures on the ceiling of the trailer. Which also seems - larger inside than it did from without.
Without that sense of stage craft - the dark aisle, the small stages flooded with light - the whole place feels diminished, broken and dingy, as sad as it is grotesque.
Each stage is marked with a tattered old sign. A good half of the cages are empty. "THE BEARDED LADY" is not there tonight, still in the side-show tent, just her empty divan, blood red, stained and worn. "THE SNAKE CHARMER" is also (blessedly) absent. Her stage is upholstered in moth-eaten purple silks and brocades, a wooden stool in the far corner.
"THE MERMAID" still swims along in the cold waters of her dark tank. The scent of fishscale, rot, and cold blood close to her tank is enough to make the gorge of even the most jaded begin to rise. Without the lights from inside, the waters look murky with floating filthy, a certain algae film seems to cling to the plexiglass.
When she emerges from those clouded waters, though, to press her alien face against the glass, silent and feral and wrong, it is that much more disturbing.
A pair of twins are next, children, girls, joined at the chest by latex and spirit gum. They are dressed in motheaten tutus and wearing tap shoes, one leaning against the other, picking at the staring out sidelong when they lights come on. Amazing latex that holds them together.
Or maybe at the flap of skin that folds itself over their shared organs.
There's filth on the floor, a kind of ooze. Someone has sloshed through it with a mop, but that has only served to put slashing diagonal lines redistributing the slurry of mud.
Finally, "THE WOLF MAN" is in his silver cage, on his isolated stage. He is sleeping, so it appears, and has this haggard look. His hair is brown, streaked with gray, and his rangey physique has the look of an old athlete gone - not to fat but to ruin of drink and drugs.
[Fate] He nearly jumped out of his skin, infact he flinched back when the Mermaid suddenly pressed against the glass of the tank he happened to be looking in. He remembered her from before and it was that same morbid curiosity that had him looking in again. Swiftly he moved towards that cage he didn't want to touch, snagging some of those mouth eaten purple silks on the way.
"Psst, Jones..."
He hissed as he wrapped the faded silk around his hands.
"Wake up."
[Bone-Grinder] Simon stood quiet and still. The full moon wasn't here to sort through the freaks or who to help and who not to help. He was here to watch over the others... Because in the end it was his job to make certain they get home tonight even if he does not. So he kept his silent vigil over the others. No reason to speak, no reason to do anything other than watch and listen. Should anything go wrong he wanted to be ready to respond.
[Carousel] The man stirs when Fate calls his name, this sort of worm-eaten movement, like a seizing heart. Pushes himself up onto his hands and shakes his greasy hair from his eyes. There's piss on the bottom of the cage, and up close, the stench of it is sharp, ammonia, wrong.
Healthy animals never foul their dens.
- " - fuck," Jones says, this rasping voice, like a block of rough sandpaper drawn across knuckles. The dingy sort of grin he gives reveals that his canine teeth have been torn out and this close, fate can tell that each of his fingers has been lopped off at the last knuckle. Even sitting up and swearing is effort that makes him start to couch on his own breath. " - who the fuck are you?"
[Slaughter] Imogen, too, jerks her head sharply toward the mermaid as she presses her alien face against the glass, her mouth turning down, her nostrils pinching in well-bred disgust. Her hand had slipped beneath her jacket, but when her hand slips back out, it is empty.
Fate hurries to 'Jones', and Imogen eyes move over their surroundings, searching for exit signs, or doors, possibly entry points.
She'll choose a decent vantage point to watch and wait - and if she can, she'll do it where she can hear the conversation between the captured and the Rotagar, but that is secondary.
[Bone Writer] ...Linus pushed his way through the sights they were seeing, maintaining eye contact on the ground or the path before them or the backs of those around him. The 'Freaks' were of much notice and consideration but not concern. More of the Wyrm's depredations given voice and shape in the form of twisted things off the natural path.
He spits in what passes for dirt as they walk beyond the Mermaid and reach the well-lit remains of The Wolf Man.
Linus hand remains settled on the inside of his jacket, slowing to allow Fate and Simon to pull in closer. His own gaze remains firmly entrenched in their surroundings, free hand rising to brush beneath his nose, a disgusted visage peeling over features at the various mingling stenches.
His gaze seems to level on the nearest wall, listening to the distant thrum of the Show happening next door, waiting for the inevitable applause that might signal their time is out.
[Fate] It was all he could do not to wrinkle his nose with the stench or react to the declawed fingers of Jones. Instead he kept his voice to a low whisper and did his best southern charm bit.
"I'm Roman and we done told Maria we'd help get y'all out of here. She says we need to stop things at the root and that y'all would help with that. Ain't nothing I want more than to give ya your chance to strike back at them that done this to ya."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen, too, startled when the 'mermaid' (though that was no motherfucking Ariel) slapped her face up against the glass, revealing herself from the shroud her opaque waters created for her. "Motherf-," she started, voice sharp and startled, and lifted a hand to cover her mouth and nose both as the stink of rotting fish and blood and god-knows what else hits her.
She watches the conjoined twins, idly tugging at whatever it is that connects them, be it authentic flesh or peach-colored rubber, and when the 'WOLFMAN' sign appears she stares intently at the waste of a man laying asleep curled up within the cage that made her back feel like someone was throwing coins down her spinal column.
Dr. Slaughter hangs back, the rest move a bit closer. The Cowboy Kid leans down to be near enough to speak to the Garou/BSD/whatever, Simon moves close enough to reinforce, and Linus makes himself the middleground between the other Garou and the Kinfolk. Gwen choses his side to stand near, one hand over her mouth and nose, the other hand cupping that elbow to keep the arm supported.
She watches, quiet, and learns.
Occasionally, though, she'll glance back to the door they came in from.
[Carousel] "Maria - ?" Jones responds, coughing wetly into his outstretched hand. The only obvious entraces are the door through which they climbed in, a smaller door opposite it, which corresponds to the "main" entrance on the other side, and the swaying curtains at the end of the narrow metal corridor.
He stares Fate in the eye for a half-second, then that wet cough dissolves into a quiet, rough throat full of laughter. "Fuck." Roman can see the man's blood shot eyes scour over him, then lift beyond, tracing out each of the others - Simon and Gwen, Linus and Imogen -
- Imogen, lingering on Imogen, drawn immediately by the pure breeding. " - so she wasn't lying. A whole fucking pack of you." He cuts a look back down the corridor toward the swaying curtains, then shakes his head. The chains secured to his collar clink together with the movement, the gesture "No."
"Just kill me." - he's - half-smiling as he says it, with a growing energy, excited by the prospect of release. " - do it quick and clean. Just fucking kill me - "
[Bone-Grinder] [Per+Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] Linus' hand tears free of the gray coat, the length and image of a black hafted spear spreading from it's place written across his chest, the dedication dancing the tool across his fingertips until the entire nine feet, it's broken-half head dancing dully beneath the light above their heads.
"Gladly." Linus takes a few steps toward The Cage, the spear gripped in hand firmly.
[Bone Writer] (Per 3 + Alert 2.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)
[Slaughter] (perception+alertness!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] "I'm afraid I can't do that, cause we got to stop this from happening to anyone else first. And if ya won't step up and get in the saddle, then we'll have to leave ya in the chute."
He held up a hand to halt Linus, hopefully.
[Carousel] Curtains at the end of the hall are moving. There's a flash of moving light behind them, too, like the swing of a step? Someone's coming, then. Carrying a flashlight? or a lantern. She can almost hear them pausing.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] When he caught movement from the curtains out of the corner of his eye, he made a cutting off motion, flicking his fingers towards the curtain as he hissed.
"Company."
No sooner did he say that than he stepped back out of reach of the cage and reached for Blur though it could be too late.
Blur steath+man diff 8
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP]
[Gwen Sullivan] "Motherfucker."
This was turning into Gwen's new favorite word, and fast. Her voice was hushed, and she reached out to tap anxiously at the center of Linus's back. Tension was rigid through her muscles, and the harsh lighting from above only made her face seem that much more pale.
"Someone's coming, and I think they know we're here already."
[Carousel] "If you kill me," Jones says, mouth peeling back from his broken teeth in a ghastly smile. He's still in that cage, shut tight. " - you stop it happening to fucking me don't you then."
[Fate] He whispered from the dark.
"Or we can leave ya here, can't we?"
[Bone Writer] Linus turned in place, his thoughts, reflexes and actions no where near the realms of stealth or hiding. He'd been caught unawares, Roman's lifting hand given a crude and ugly snarl that didn't manage to make it into a sound. He snapped around as the Ragabash warned them of an incoming and Gwen's tapping finger confirmed it.
A snap of his eyes leveled on Imogen, barer of the only ranged weapon amongst them (Because history and reputation both spoke of the Kin's marksmanship and kill count made on a bullet and trigger) even as that sooty black spear shifted in his grasp and settled, point to the ground beside one foot, haft jutting near straight behind his shoulder blade.
"Push back to the walls..." Through gritted teeth to Gwen. "Don't let anyone or thing behind you 'less it's another one of us."
[Slaughter] She had seen nothing - but the warning of the others is enough - her gun fitting into her hand as she steps back, her footfall silent as she finds somewhere out of sight from the direction of Gwen's attention. She removes the safety of the weapon, and waits.
[Gwen Sullivan] Wolves were creatures of rank and cooperation. When they were pushed together into a group, authority was meant to be decided on, and typically rather quickly. Gwen didn't pick up on a general consensus of who to follow, it seemed to be a rather liberal mishmash of equal ranking people working together, sharing ideas, but with no true leader. Gut instinct, the only real thing that she had to go off of considering her gaping lack of experience, had her seeking a leader.
After seeing someone pull a spear from fucking nowhere and having them give you instructions, it was pretty easy to make your decision on who to pay some mind to.
Flank the walls, he says, and that sounds like a pretty damn good plan to her.
Gwen doesn't scamper or make a fuss to get back from view, she doesn't want her sneakers making a whole lot of noise or her breathing to elevate so that huffing and puffing gives her away. Rather, moves slow and quiet against the wall, tugging her hood secure over her head and pressing the back of her skull to the cool metal of the inside of the trailer and taking a slow, deep breath.
Where the fuck was the light switch?
[Bone Writer] (Charisma 3 + Subterfuge 3. Diff 6. Persuasion.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone-Grinder] "If we're gonna fight let's fucking bring the fight to them... Why wait?"He asks with a snarl, and immediately the beast begins to shift his form to something better suited to War as he begins to rush towards the curtains.Flesh rippling outward as muscles seems o grow spontaneously from his already powerful frame and just as quickly fur begins to sprout from that. Simon was not about to be cornered like a rat. The beast would soon assume his Crinos form with the intention of ripping right through the curtain and tackling their enemies.
Whoever there folks were this was only going to get worse unless the intruders in question were dealt with immediately. In the event this was a trap they were all gonna die anyway... So he might as well make them earn this kill.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] There is always a moment before a fight when everything seems to go still. Garou move so quickly in the fire of rage that they split seconds into impossible slices, not unlike the way humans split the atom.
Each of them has a spare-second to see the world in freeze frame.
Bone-Grinder charges toward the curtains, his claws scrabbling on the cheap carpet runner, blood red, lining the long hallway. Underneath, corrugated metal, the substructure of the tractor trailer in which the "Hall of Wonders" - the "Museum of the Unreal" - is housed. The effluvia of the place is sharp in his nose - shit and piss, the stink of metal, the noisome perfume of slow-putrefaction from the mermaid's tank, old blood, fresh meat, fear and despair and hunger underneath.
The curtains move. He can see the shadow of a body, this brief impression behind tattered, threadbare red velvet.
Gwen presses herself against the metal frame of the trailer, the metal ribs digging into the articulations of her vertebrae. She has this brief glimpse of those fake (?) siamese twins sitting close to each other in the next stage over, a moment of terror on the face of one, while the other seems - blase, unsurprised when an unauthorized visitor erupts into some shape out of nightmares and charges down the corridor.
Imogen trains her weapon on the moving curtains. Levels it, and fixes her gaze there. She has this peripheral sense of the other Garou - Roman with his spear in hand, Gwen pushing back against the wall, Bone-Grinder's spine moving in that organic loping rhythm of a Garou on the hunt.
Linus has Jones in his sights, though he lowers that spear and backs away when there's movement. He has no hope of hiding, and so he does not, flanking Imogen, his spear at the ready. Jones looks - alert, his dilated pupils contracting as he pushes himself more upright, shoving forward against the silver bars to peer down the corridor as Simon streaks past.
And Roman pulls his gift to him, finds the multipartite shadows cast by the sharp array of the overhead lights, drawing back as Simon streaks past, notices a heavier shadow against the curtains just before they are drawn open -
- in one long, ripping movement.
The strongman is there. Seven and a half-feet tall, inhumanly made, as if someone had stuffed all the bulk of a war-formed Garou into a human frame, compacted it until the gravity of that muscle bulk was dense as a guttering star. His features are distorted by the bulk, and he is covered with oil, shirtless, shaved, his bald pate glaring-bright.
He casts a long, hulking shadow over the interior corridor.
Behind him, the EmCee is slight, almost ordinary except for the garish clothes. He's a tall man. Slender, with delicate, long-fingered hands and a certain fastidious grace. It's not the same man that Roman and Simon remember.
For a moment, he looks up as they are looking down the hall at him. Simon is running, ready to bring the war to the circus of freaks, intent on cutting them down before they cut him down, and the EmCee - sniffs, disdainful at this display.
"Freeze - " he says, in this loud, somehow sinuous voice that seems to crackle through the air like the discharge of a lightning bolt. And Simon freezes, mid-stride. Whatever the EmCee did has taken something essential out of his - cost him something, grayed his skin, made him - thin, somehow, like a picture from a signal just at the edge of clarity.
The immediate threat gone, the strongman steps begrudgingly out of the EmCee's way. "Thank you, Franklin," the man says, glancing over at Jones, gathering himself in the cage. " - well, after so long, they finally came for - " but something makes him flash a look back at the others visible, his sallow eyes crawl over Linus, Gwen, intrusive and warm as a sun-warmed reptile, Imogen.
And he smiles, looking back at his captive werewolf in the silver cage.
"They're not yours, are they?" And he laughs to himself, reaches up to plant a hand on the huge shoulder of the strongman. "Look at that, Franklin. We have achieved the impossible, brought two sides in the great war of the wolves together in a moment of peace, serendipity. I don't think it will be lasting, though.
"Do you?"
[Fate] He was hidden for the moment (Blurred) and in that moment of opportunity he reached for Resist Pain (WP). He wasn't sure what anyone else was doing other than Simon who had rushed the curtain and froze with the command to Freeze. And Imogen, somewhere in his brain he knew she would have that gun out. There was Jones, cowering in the cage. So when he thought the Emcee and Franklin (aka the former pink Jaba the Hutt) weren't looking his direction and or stepped pass him, he started to slither off in an attempt to work up behind them.
[Bone Writer] "...Fifteen seconds."
It's all he says. Nothing but eyes and slow breathing. The spear remains at his side and he remains within ten paces of the Silver Cage (crawling skin, seething soul).
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was bothered most by the fact that there was nowhere to go for cover. She didn't like being out in the open like this, exposed, just waiting to see what the people in the hallway would decide to do and laying her fate on the floor to go along with whatever response awaits them.
What emerges first is easily the largest person she has ever seen in her entire life. She stares, head turned so the side of her face is flush with the cool metal of the trailer's interior. Behind him, a person who seems to be the boss, despite the fact that he was wasting and thin, gray and tired. But, despite that, power crackled from him, and this manifested obviously when he halted Simon with a barking, electric command. The effect was supernatural, more than a strong charismatic influence, she knew.
He spoke, Roman had vanished, Imogen was still, and Linus spoke a time frame and nothing more.
Gwen's teeth clicked anxiously on her lip piercing, but aside from that she, too, was motionless.
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]
[Carousel] "Fifteen seconds? - " the EmCee returns, smiling this crawling sort of smile, all the moving, livid grace of a jointed centipede tucked into the frame of his mouth.
His lips are dark, and they have not yet seen his teeth. This is a showman's close-mouthed smile, though he employs it slowly, opens it the way a ship unfurls its colors. Empty hands move in front of this torso - long, thin fingers tipped in well-kept nails. His multicolored suit is tattered brocade, the cuffs crisp against his bony hands.
Snapping one of those cuffs with a crispness that belies his that brief, gray undertone to his pallid skin, the threadbare finery. Makes him smart, somehow, grander and darker than this foul trailer, with its pathetic creations kept on display for the cruel, greedy masses of humanity.
"Make it thirty, my dear young man."
A sidelong sort of look, as he tilts his head, listening.
"Do it for me."
[Slaughter] The stillness of the others might almost make one think they had all been affected by the giant's edict. The kinwoman's gaze is steady on the others as he dissects her - or perhaps, undresses her - with his eyes, but she makes no move.
Linus speaks and the kinwoman flicks a gaze his way, her expression utterly bland, her face a mask. Despite herself, she begins to count down, a muscle moving in her jaw, the only indicator of her tension, or perhaps, her impatience.
As the EmCee speaks, Imogen's eyes fix on Linus - though she is not waiting for him to give an order; instead her intentness is of a different sort. Evaluating.
[Carousel] The strong-man, Franklin seems to fill the space he inhabits, seems to push it beyond its normal boundaries. His skin is tight and shiny, glistening with oil. He watches them all pugnaciously, with this beady eyes that seem like little more than black buttons mounted in bullish, near inhuman face - there's something uncertain about that look, unclear whether or not he should watch them, or the hated, broken werewolf in the silver cage.
[Per + Alertness Dif 6 + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 10)
[Carousel] EmCee: Per + Alertness: Dif 10
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 10)
[Bone Writer] "Fifteen seconds is the length of time left before the Ulfr I left behind puts his quick fists up and starts gunning his way through half your lil' Party favours and carnie retards looking for the Big Spin you got hidden away from everyone's eyes."
He doesn't sneer. He turns away from the EmCee, as if the man weren't of much importance, gaze settling on the Silver Cage and the creature within, a disgusted snarl trickling across his lips.
"...But for now, I hope you'll excuse me. Higher priorities." The spear hefts and Linus takes a couple of steps toward the Cage. The next words are a dangerous hiss.
"Show me your throat, -ikthya."
(Manipulation 2 + Subterfuge 3. -1 Diff for Persuasion. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 9, 10, 10 [WP]
[Carousel] Show me your throat - and the EmCee's crawling smile widens. His chin rises, this sharp, imperious gesture common to kings - of both men and wolves - not the commoners that crawl around the skin, mucking about in the grime and filth. There's something shining about him, underneath, that sort of burnished sense of power in which he is well-seated. He catches a hint of movement against the wall, does not dismiss it, and now Franklin has abandoned his belligerent study of the Spiral in the cage to stare - stupidly, from beneath beetled brows - at the wall. Subtle as a Mac truck, that one.
The EmCee doesn't know their terms, and that moment's display shifts as he grasps the spear-wielder's meaning a moment later. The smile quiets, corners of his elastic mouth drawing downward, but his interesting sharpens, eyes hooding with the proprietary interest of - say it - a slave merchant examining fresh meat, a procurer, examining the merchandise, assessing the fitness of a field hand or a gladiator, a breeder or a whore.
"Please," he says, this bright note in his tone, casting this almost shiveringly fond glance between Jones and Linus and - with a flourish of a gesture - opens the way to the cage for Linus. " - don't let me stop you. I'm happy to give you your every desire. You are here to do a job. A very, very important job. Balance of the world and all that. Your dying goddess.
"Do not let me stop you."
[Carousel] - and in that gleaming silver cage, that ruin of a man turns his head so briefly from the EmCee, the strongman. He is on all fours now, leaning forward, his body filling the front of the cage, his face pressed against the bars. He tilts his head, a hint of his throat, the flash of dark light in his eyes.
A moment's regard.
He's not broken.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
[Fate] It sure looked to him like the skinny guy spotted him and how could he miss ole Jaba staring at him. Infact, just for the heck of it he made a face at ole Jaba just to see if it reacted as he eased along the shadows.
[Slaughter] Imogen's eyes narrow slightly on the EmCee.
"Linus," the kinwoman speaks, "hold a tick, will you?"
Her attention flicks to the smarmy speaker. "Pretty elaborate set up fer yeh to just let him die."
[Slaughter] (Sorry, drop the name)
[Slaughter] Where's Roman?
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 10) Re-rolls: 1
[Gwen Sullivan] It's almost easy to forget that the cub is there, the only sound she makes is that soft tink-tink of teeth on the sterling of her piercing. She watched the man comprised of muscle and piggy black eyes, the man with the voice and gestures that spoke of nothing but hidden power and seething, writhing self-assurance, and how the broken wolf on the other side of the war and silver bars regards Linus when he steps forward promising to kill him.
One final click of bone and enamel on the lip piercing, and she moved away from the wall, her first two steps cautious, pausing to see how the EmCee and Franklin respond, then continuing to stand beside Linus, on the side of him opposite the front of the trailer where the enemy stood. She felt sick to be so close to the cage, like someone left her on a tilt-a-whirl too long.
Imogen spoke, and Gwen looked over to her, briefly, then down to Jones. She murmured, voice too soft to carry far: "Doesn't matter, though, he's supposed to die anyway." And as she says this, she shifts the heavy ring of keys slowly from her pocket and presses it to the outside of Linus's hand, or if that isn't at his side into his hip instead.
[Carousel] - and the EmCee watches this, his smile now a compact thing, concentrated around a kernel of delight. When Imogen speaks he appears - honestly delighted to hear the tone of her voice.
Losing the thread of the shadow of a thing in favor of the pleasure of the moment, which he savors the way an oenophile would the finest wine, ripe and round, all the pleasures of summer's end wrapped in the liquid, ready for the tongue.
"I'll just need," he continues, quiet, sounding now not unlike an accountant at the end of a balance sheet, almost benevolent about it really, the last terms before he will give out the keys. " - a replacement. Formality, that. Nothing that you need concern yourself with my dear. Unless you have something you want like that, to the exclusion of all else. Some war you need to fight, some fault you need to fill."
--
The EmCee is no longer watching Roman. Franklin is, though. He doesn't move, he just stares as Roman inches his way down the wall, those piggy eyes fixed on him, that stupid, raw look on his meat-like face.
[Bone Writer] -Dying Goddess
"Shut it!" Those two words stop Linus dead, the spear snapping around to level it's jagged half-head at the EmCee, a feral cast coming to his youthful features, though he bares no scars or revulsion to make it more fearsome. A Boy with Honest Hate.
"I'm here to do one thing and one thing only and that's deal with this situation as best as possible and right now my best is six tonnes of marching Fire and Wrath wading through your little Carnival here and ripping up the Big Dipper 'til your little Gate's closed. After that, I gave him free reign to do as He pleased. This Fucktard-" His head cants toward Jones, the spear still unwaveringly pointed at the EmCee "-just-" And Then Imogen speaks.
This brings a sharp snap of his head around toward the Kinwoman, gaze narrowed slightly and jaw clamping down hard on the remainder of his retort. His nostrils flare and...there is a hint of it. Rage pluming off shoulders and brow. Crushed, it would seem, under the heel of expedience.
Gwen's presence at his side, almost receives a snap, of hand or words, one would be hard pressed to guess as her presence reveals the jangle of keys, which he turns and stares down at absently. He then plucks it from her, snarl turned to a frown, before nodding at the Cub.
[Fate] Attention was drawn from him, all but piggy eyes, but this was likely to be his best chance and he took it. When the Emcee gave that reaction to Imogen, something inside Roman snapped. By snapping it meant, he launched himself at the Emcee's back, despite Franklin. Snapping to Warform in mid-air.
[Slaughter] The moment Roman launches himself, Imogen snaps up her gun - goddamnit - shifting her attention to Franklin to fire off several rounds.
[Bone Writer] Linus is turning, half-way back to Jones with a sneer crawling his features, when there is a rush of movement and the powerful burn of Rage flooding the air. Linus attention and reaction is vicious; the Keys are thrown hurriedly back at Gwen.
Linus rears, spear sliding effortlessly to the mid-point of his palm even as cloth and flesh shift to Fur and Power. He grunts once, even as he sights, leans and snaps the Spear forward in a single motion, directed at Franklin's over-sized neck and head.
[Gwen Sullivan] Suddenly the world begins to dissolve, the smell of musk and singed hate seeping into the trailer to join the menagerie of stenches that already filled the air. One Crinos, she presumed Roman considering that he had disappeared, appeared from nowhere, launching himself at the pair from their backs. Linus sprung up a few extra feet and his expanding bulk had her side-stepping out of the way.
Imogen leveled her gun, and keys were thrown toward her. She fumbled to catch them, then held them against her chest as she moved back another step, eyes wide and adrenaline surging through her veins.
Well what the fuck do I do now?
[Slaughter] (sneaky attack? sneaky sneaky? pls? kthx!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] dex+stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP]
[Carousel] EmCee:
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Failure at target 10)
[Bone Writer] (Dex + What? +1 diff for no skill))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 5 (Failure at target 7)
[Carousel] Franklin:
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] Claw Emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] Franklin's attention had been where Roman was - and she watches his head turns to follow the war-formed beast as he launches himself at the EmCee. As he does, the kinwoman squeezes the trigger on her weapon, the report echoing and loud in the trailer.
Fifteen.
Her ears begin to ring.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Spear to Franklin's neck. Dex 4 + Ath 1. +2 Diff for Called Shot. -1 for Flank? Diff 7 total. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Str 6 in Crinos + 2 Called Shot + 1 Sux + 1 Spear Damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (two more dice damage for flanking! WOO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] - another hanging moment. The faintest movement of air marks Roman's shift from boy to monster. Franklin watches the whole time, the dumb piglet eyes, the widening mouth - whatever the huge man might have said to warn his master is lost in a choking cough as Imogen levels her weapon, and Linus launches his. There is a bloom of blood and bone from the huge man - and Fate shreds the EmCee from behind, tearing through that tattered finery down to his pale, nearly translucent skin.
"OH - " the EmCee says - mouth open - staggering forward - eyes wide, a drop of blood rolling down from his nose to that snearing mouth.
[Inits!]
[Slaughter] (+9!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Bone Writer] (8+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Carousel] EMCEE: +20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Fate] Init +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Carousel] Franklin: +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Carousel] Jones: +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Gwen Sullivan] [+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Carousel] Order:
EmCee: 25
Fate: 16
Jones: 12
Franklin: 12
Imogen: 11
Linus 11
Gwen: 6
Simon: frozen for one more round!
[Carousel] The startled look remains on the EmCee's face for the sparest moment. Then he stiffens through the spine, blood on his mouth now, turning his snearing lips red. A moment's concentration, a spiritual tug they can feel as he whirls to face Fate.
"Freeze."
[-2 due to wounds.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] WP
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Fate] He shuddered, his entire body trembled from toe to top and sure enough it looked like he was freezing like Simon had. Instead, he reached deep inside and with sheer WP attacked.
1a Claw
1b Bite
1R Claw
[Fate] 1a claw emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Fate] 1b bite emcee
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Failure at target 8)
[Bone Writer] There is an inhuman snarl, that has him rushing forward, digging claws into the ground with a desperate urgency that sends him skidding toward Franklin, a clawed limb reaching out for the scattered Spear, snapping yowls and clacking teeth erupting as Linus tucks in low to the ground.
1) Distract Franklin
Rage 1) Pick up Spear
[Carousel] The EmCee - still smiling, his back raw as hamburger meat, his fucking lungs visible from behind, the cage of his chest and back like a window, muscles torn and shredded from the savaged spine, blood soaking the blood-red brocad of his suit lining - falls. Falls to his knees, his eyes still open, mouth open, choking on a torrent of blood and a swollen tongue, reaches out and - yes - steadies himself on Fate's massive thigh as he falls - practically lowering himself to the floor.
His body is a ruin, no human, not even a Garou could survive such a savaging. He still wheezes, somehow, gasping, like a fish pulled out of water, razor gills flapping.
--
In that silver cage, Jones gathers himself.
[WP: to shift in a silver cage! dif: 10 -2 because he really hates the EmCee]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Carousel] Franklin turns with a terrible roar and launches himself at Fate, pummeling him with those giant fists.
Dex + Brawl
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Slaughter] The kinwoman's attention focuses - dimly she hears the sound of crunching bone and splattering bone as Fate makes quick work of the EmCee.
She allows her gun to strafe, following Franklin as he launches himself at Fate. As the giant's back is turned, she fires four shots.
One, after another, after another.
(Fourteen.)
(dex+firearms-4 for split!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Slaughter] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Thirteen)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 4)
[Slaughter] (damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Twelve)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (Eleven)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Changing first action: move and pick up spear.
Rage 1: Change to stab Franklin)
[Gwen Sullivan] Blood, blood, and not much else besides. Roman is an absolute beast, and he tears the EmCee into the kinds of shreds that you see coming out the other end of a meat grinder at the butcher's shop. ...And yet he still breathes. She's staring at this, stunned, while Linus throws himself forward to chase after his spear. Gunshots are loud, especially in here, echoing in her ears, and Jones is morphing and growing much larger in his cage of silver, donning fur and a broil of Rage and frustration to go with it.
Gwen's knuckles are white around the keyring, and she's shivering, uncertain, while this unfurls.
The spear had cut the Franklin beast but had not finished him, the bullets bounced off him like they were made of rubber.
Her eyes cut down to Jones, and she cusses something under her breath before stooping down and fumbling the keys to the visible lock:
"I swear to God, you better want him dead as much as I think."
[Unlock the Cage!]
[Fate] 1r turned to, reaching for the Emcee to spin in an arch at Franklin with the body, using it to beat Franklin with.
[Fate] Claw Frankie boy, roaring.
"Pink Jaba, die!"
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: beating Fate!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fate] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Spear Franklin: Dex 4 + Melee 2. Diff 6 - 2 for Rear attack +1 for Changed action. WP)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) [WP]
[Bone Writer] (str 6 + 3 sux + 1 Spear damage)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soakie soakie soakie!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: 25
Fate: 16 [must spend WP to act]
Franklin: 12
Imogen: 11
Linus: 11
Gwen: 6
Jones: last.
[Fate] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Per 3 + Alert 2.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Slaughter] (perception+alertness)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Perception + Alertness: Detail-Oriented]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3
[Carousel] The EmCee lays unmoving on the ground, with massive wounds nothing in the world could hope to survive.
He's already healing, though. It will take time, maybe day, but the blood on the corrugated metal floor is rolling uphill back into his body.
The curtains behind Roman are moving. Someone's coming from back there. Won't be here for a little while longer. And there's a sort of caution there. This isn't the cavalry charging to the rescue.
"Maria" - has opened the back door, is creeping in down the trailer, peering at them wide-eyed.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Carousel] The Emcee lays unmoving on the ground.
[Fate] Once more it was sheer Willpower that allowed him to move and that movement was....
1a...stomp on Emcee's head
1b....Claw Franklin
1r Claw Franklin
[Fate] 1a Stomp
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: soak stomp!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Fate] 1b Claw Franklin
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin throws himself furiously at Roman, clearly insensate to pain, flesh scored, torn way from those impossible muscles in strips now, as if he had been flayed alive by the garou.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4 (Failure at target 6)
[Slaughter] Every single bullet hits, but goes no deeper than the cloth the grotesquerie wears.
Her upper lip curls up in an uncharacteristic expression of fury, her teeth gritting hard enough to nearly snap her teeth at the root. Her eyes shut a split second. She breathes in. It's all she has time for.
Her eyes open again and she aims her weapon again, abruptly in a state of forced calm.
She aims at the EmCee and fires, twice, then jerks up her weapon to fire twice more at Franklin.
(Ten.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4) Re-rolls: 2
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] EmCee: SOOOAK.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Failure at target 8)
[Slaughter] (intell + medicine!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6
[Slaughter] Abruptly, her weapon jerks up switching to Franklin.
"Let it be," she can barely hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears, the beating of her heart -
which, if she were honest, is beating harder than adrenaline can explain -
"Time enough t'deal wi' that after." Even as she spoke, she felt resistance. There is nothing more than Imogen Slaughter would like to do, right this second, than get away from this place.
She fires.
(Nine.)
[Slaughter] (dex+firearms)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 8, 10 (Failure at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Slaughter] AGAIN!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6 (Failure at target 4)
[Slaughter] (whoops - rolling a second time with the right number of dice. Sorry 'bout that)
[Slaughter] STOP EMBARRASSING ME, KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 9 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: SOAKIES.
[Carousel]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Slaughter] HIT 'IM AGAIN!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 6 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Carousel]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] The Spear and Crinos snap in a tight and low circle, the movement shaken by the brush with adrenaline and Rage even as the shots ring off in the air and the thrum of blows can be heard. Linus jaws ratchet open, even as the momentum carries him back to facing Franklin, bowed as the Godi is.
1) Sweep Franklin.
2) Bite Franklin's neck
(Sweep. Dex 4 + Melee 2. Diff 8 - 2 for Rear attack)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] Action continues to whirl in the trailer, making it seem impossibly cramped and crowded. The key clicks correctly in the lock, and the door to the cage swings open. Gwen had been paying close mind to her surroundings while working the lock, though, she wasn't preoccupied. She saw what occurred with the EmCee, she sensed something to her back, and something to the back of the fray.
Her muscles shivered, sweat was slick along her spine and her chest now.
Inaction was beginning to make her crazy, the Rage and Animal within wanted to move, to join, to flay.
For once she let the pump of hot, primal anger rush through her veins and seep through her mind and limbs alike. Her body broiled, and she shoved her hoodie from her body a millisecond before the rest of her clothes shredded away from her body when it exploded upward, into a body without thumbs or fingers, but instead sporting teeth that felt too large for her mouth and claws that could tear through the metal walls if she so wished.
She snapped a snarl with a toss of her head toward the back of the trailer, toward something/someone perhaps no one else saw, then charged forward-- not toward the battle, but through, to the hallway behind that Franklin and the EmCee had emerged from initially.
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dexterity + Athletics]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 7, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [+WP!!!]
[Fate] Claw Frankling 1 r
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Fate] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Franklin: kick FAte!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7) [WP]
[Fate] per+PU
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Carousel] (actually! he is kicking Linus, since Linus knocked him down. dif is 8 for changing targets)
DAMAGE
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Bone Writer] (Bite Franklin's neck: Dex 4 + Brawl 1. Diff 5 + 2 Called shot - 2 partial immobilize. -1 for Wounds)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Bone Writer] (str 6 + 1 sux + 2 called shot + 1 bite)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Carousel] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Carousel] Rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]
[Carousel] Gwen charges forward into the fracas, not into it but beyond it, finding her warform through the sheer itch of rage under her skin. She crashes into the moving curtain, through it, brings the damned thing tear down, past the vampire boy, his heart revealed, atop his sternum, the skin pulled back like a terrible dissection made permanent, through the stink and musk of battle.
Beyond: the antechambers of the freak show tent, an office on the tailgate of the truck with makeshift stairs that open down into the tent proper. The freaks are gathering. The snake-charmer, the bearded lady, the capering dwarfs, a man with an elephant's snout in place of a nose - all of them.
Among the freaks, Roman sees a carni, a low stage hand, an armful of something in his arms, rope for the rigging, ticket for the how, who seems - familiar - somehow. Roman remembers him from his last trip to the carnival. That man - a the scene opens before him - drops his burden with a thud to the ground, glancing up and down the face of the assembled, ten or twenty of them - then looks up at the fight, taking it all in faster than the rest.
And that man, that carni, that lowly stagehand is the EmCee Roman remembers from his first trip to the cursed carnival.
Jones falls from the opened cage, briefly wracked with coughs. There are still shackles on his wrists and ankles, but he was ready to shift to warform in that too small cage. This is nothing. Just a moment to remember how his legs move, his arms move. Just a moment to feel the touch of spirit, twisted though it make be, that makes him whole. Just a moment to find his fire -
- and then he does, headlow, moving in this sort of wild outflow. There's something in the air around him, coruscating, brilliant, he's bathed in the promise of fire, literally, wrists and ankles bulging, the action of shifting breaking his remaining bonds, the silver almost molting on his skin.
Rage and rage alone keeps him upright through that seering pain. Snarling, the -ikthya, the Spiral staggers, breaks into warform rather than shifts, this quivering sort of transformation like a worm-filled heart.
--
He pounces on Franklin as the montrous strongman rages back from death, frenzied, snarling, tears into his neck, tears out his throat with his dull teeth, his missing incisors. And beneath Jones' scored, scoured, blistered, de-clawed paws, Franklin begins to fucking melt into a puddle of flesh colored ooze.
There's this sense of movement among the carnis, though no one take charge until the stagehand does, begins to run.
Jones snarls - "GO - " in the high tongue, snarls "RUN. BEFORE THEY CLAIM YOU TOO. RUN. - " and then he spreads snarls another challenge at the crowd, ready to take them on, broken maw, broken paws, bleeding sulferous blood from his silver-wounds. All of them, standing ready over this - bubbling ooze of flesh that was Franklin, the stink and rot of it, guarding their retreat.
"I WILL TAKE YOU ALL." He snarls at the crowd.
[Fate] He saw what he saw and so many more were coming their way and what did Roman do? He pointed right at the guy with the ropes and yelled.
"That's the guy that was Emcee last time! Best we run, bring this place down! Burn it to the ground!"
[Slaughter] The kinwoman regards Jones, the melting EmCee with an impassive regard.
Fate suggests they run, and Imogen merely casts him a glance, her eyes dark. Her gun clicks as the Glock releases her mostly empty clip, and snaps as she slaps another home, pocketing the remaining bullets.
"C'mon," she says, simply. "I don't think this is goin' to be easy."
Linus has no need to make sure that Imogen is near the front - the kinwoman naturally lets the Garou between her and - anything. They were, after all, better at this than she was. But it won't keep her from firing where she can. Covering their retreat with the only ranged weapon they have.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen didn't so much sail as she did punch her body through the curtain, bringing it down clumsily onto the floor with a clatter. Doing so revealed not just one or two people sneaking their way up the hall, but an entire goddamn crowd of them. Eyes that had gone yellow in this body of a muscle-swollen, battle-ready wolf hopped from body-to-body, and her black lips curled back to snarl, muscles shivering and shaking, hackles standing tall--
RUN BEFORE THEY CLAIM YOU TOO
Her ears switched back, her head jerked back as well, and her eyes jumped to Roman, to Simon, to Imogen, then settled on Linus. She'd glance between him and the crowd, wait for the signal to move, and when it came she would push past the fallen EmCee, the puddle of the muscle man, and the Black Spiral Dancer and the flames that consumed him and spread to all they touched, dodging to carefully avoid contact with the unleashed vengeance that was Jones.
She would retreat as told, and try not to think of the chubby teen that had helped them out and not feel guilty about leaving her behind.
[Bone Writer] "I'll deal with that."
It's a quiet reassurance and the only thing Linus offers to Roman by way of answer. The group begins to gather and with a final wince and a pluck of his spear, shadowed into the flesh once more, Linus moves into the line-up on it's way back to normalcy.
[Carousel] "Maria" stands in the entranceway half-way down the trailer through which they slipped. Staring, wide-eyed. She turns to the first person who begins to retreat and says, quiet, urgent, sharp with fear -
"C'mon, hurry. Hurry. Everyone heard that." Urgent. "We have got to - "
There's already movement now, they are running and the freak are moving, now like an army but like a crowd. Someone shrieks and something dark, with razor-black wings moves against the ceiling of the trailer. The stagehand to whom Roman points has grabbed a makeshift weapon and and advances on the battle ahead of the mob, running with a single-minded purpose.
Not after them, but after the brutalized corpse of the EmCee.
"C'mon," says Maria, nearly crying now. "COME ON - " and then she's hustling them out, down the stairs in the back, and they cannot see the big dipper, they are immediately lost in a warren of tents and airstreams, fifth-wheel campers and pop-ups, creepy, abandoned ice cream trucks and strange pick-ups full of cages and piles of filth and foul-smelling stages of garbage.
The ordinary pleasures of the midway are not the only pleasures offered here. They pass gambling tents and brothel trailers, other, stranger attractions.
Whatever you want, the EmCee said, we have - .
If they trust her, the girl guides them through the backtents with practiced ease. There are encounters. Imogen counts more bullets. Roman lashes out with teeth, though he's flagging, not physically but spiritually, the place is tugging on his failing will. Linus with his spear, and Gwen Sullivan, who has no Name yet, with her fists, with her claws. Mostly they run.
They find refuge, briefly, in the tent of a fortune teller. The woman is still and old, and she gives Maria a sharp look at the bedraggled group, "These are the ones?"
There's movement outside, a sort of living chaos to which the fortune teller and the girl are attuned, that the Garou and Imogen feel only dimly. That chaos tugs more on Roman's awareness, on Simon's awareness, than the rest of them, but all is through a glass, darkly.
The fortune teller shelters them for ten minutes, makes herself a cup of tea and tells them that she would offer them -
- but, but. Sometimes it is best not to partake of even the simplest pleasures in a place like this. Her smile, as she says this, is gentle, bittersweet.
Maria is sharp with fear, eager to move when she hears shouts outside, but the fortune teller, who gives her name as Sarah, shakes her head, keeps her from leaving. "This tent is mine, girl. They cannot come here. You know the rules." - and, then, a moment later. With a look back at Maria then, a hard-edged sort of look, though quiet this. "Jones is dead. Jones is free."
"I think we have a new EmCee." Then, a heartbeat later. "The way is clear. Go. Take the old path."
--
And they go, find the gate underneath the Big Dipper through the maze. One minute it seemed impossible far away, and the next they are underneath it, the field across the way beckoning, the creek, the bend, the -
- relief, of the world around them. None of the carnis cross over.
Not even "Maria," though she ran with them the whole way. The place would not let her go.
And above the outline of the tents and the attractions, the roller coaster runs, and the gleaming, multicolored ferris wheel spins and spins.
[Carousel] Gwen leaves with 3 agg. She had the pleasure of healing bashing and lethal along the way.
to Gwen Sullivan
[Fate] They were rattled when they broke free of the Carnival and if Linus thought the ride in was hairy, he was going to love having the wounded garou drive him back to town.
